


Hey There Little Red...

by 1lostone



Series: Hey There Little Red [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, Bloodplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek doesn't like it when others play in Stiles' sandbox, First Time, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pack Dynamics, Possessive!Alphas are possessive, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Stiles' Dad is actually not an idiot, tropes are tropetastic for a reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Post ep for S2e04) Stiles knew that agreeing to meet Lydia in the middle of the damn woods, in the middle of the damn night wasn't one of his best ideas. Really. He did.</p><p>(Now: Completely AU-Canon!)</p><p>Edit: 12/25/12 By request, I'm writing a little sequel thing for this story.</p><p>EDIT! 1/13/13 HOLY BATSHIT, FATMAN!  mari-mcsly on tumblr did coverart for this story! I AM SWOONING OH MY GOD.   http://mari-mcsly.tumblr.com/post/40446220575/covers-for-hey-there-little-red-by-1lostone  IS THE LINK.  A:LKL:ASD:LKLA:SKDLA:SKD!!!!</p><p>Edit Aug 2015-  I am an idiot. I always respond to comments from my email, and someone rec'd me recently and when I went to go check the fic, I found a WHOLE SLEW of comments (mostly from August of 2012?) that I didn't see or respond to, so if you get a THANK YOU from three years later, that's why. I am so, so, <b>sooo</b> sorry!</p><p>Aaaaand Edit 2016 I finally got around to fixing (hopefully) all of those damn typos. My apologies. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom. 
> 
> I blame Tyler Hoechlin. Oh, and Dylan O'Brien's adorable face. And whoever the fucking genius was that decided that they should both be soaking wet in a pool together. *blink* *dopey grin* Wait. What was I saying? Oh yeah. My first fic. So...here you go! Thanks to jlm121 and jihime47 for taking a look at this for me, but all mistakes are mine.

Cover art my [mari-mcsly](http://mari-mcsly.tumblr.com/).  <3.

  
It wasn’t so much that Stiles _wanted_ to be lost in the middle of the fucking woods in the middle of the goddamn night. Things just sort of happened that way.  
  
Stiles shook his head, pausing to breathe against the tree. This wasn’t quite as bad as running interference between Scott and Allison. He didn’t feel like he needed to snort his inhaler, anyway. But he’d been walking for what seemed like hours. Habit made him check his phone, only to remember that it was still at the bottom of the damn pool.  
  
“Stupid werewolf politics,” Stiles muttered, allowing himself a couple of steps of truly spectacular stomping before sighing again and pausing to rest against the tree. Was that the same knot from earlier? He peered at it, wishing for a little more moonlight.  
  
What the actual fuck.

It wasn’t like he was a boy scout. He’d tried, but the den mother had kicked him out when he had a few little questions about the necessity of identifying edible sub-tropic plants in the wild. They lived in northern California, for Christ’s sakes. The only thing Stiles knew about palm fronds was what he’d seen on CSI: Miami, like most normal kids. Stiles shook his head. He paused a moment, pressing his hand to his side. He cinched his red hoodie up over his head and tried not to feel pathetic and stupid.  
  
Which was doubly difficult considering he was both pathetic _and_ stupid.  
  
Lydia had told him where to meet. She’d seemed distraught. Upset again. Seeing her cry in the parking lot had really hurt. Ditching her to go canoodle in the pool with Derek for two hours had hurt quite a bit more.  
  
Stiles let his head thunk against the tree.  
  
So okay. Maybe he had questioned his .. priorities.  
  
For three hours.  
  
After Derek had stormed off, Stiles hadn’t missed the snotty little look Erica had given him. Yeah whatever. Big, bad werewolf got the shit kicked out of her by the Creepy Lizard Thing, and she was all busy being knocked out while _he_ had kept Derek from drowning.  
  
But did he get a thank you?  
  
Nope.  
  
A ‘great job, Stiles!’  
  
Nope.  
  
Scott had disappeared to go pick up his mom, and Stiles was left in the parking lot, twiddling his thumbs because all of his asshole friends had just _taken off_ , leaving him dripping wet and sans phone. Yeah. Okay so it had been a long walk home. And cold. Let’s not forget cold. His muscles had practically trembled as he pulled himself up the stairs. It had been a relief to strip down and fall face-first into his bed. When he heard his email notification he had kind of whined a little, then forced himself up and over to his computer.  
  
Lydia.  
  
Begging to meet him. Saying something about needing to talk to him, but not feeling safe at her house. Stiles had been dressed and following her directions in minutes. Lydia had asked that he bring a change of clothes, some water, and something to eat. Stiles had been a little freaked out to be honest, but he’d dutifully packed his backpack and gone to meet her. Hell. If Derek could sneak _in_ his window, Stiles sure as hell could sneak _out_. Naturally, he had gotten lost. Then he had gotten even more lost. In the woods. That were dark. And creepy. And dark.  
  
And frankly, until he heard the footstep behind him as he rested against the tree in the woods, he hadn’t thought to wonder why exactly Lydia had emailed him instead of calling him.  
  
Stiles didn’t even have time to squeak in fright before he was being slammed back into the tree, the flash of red giving him seconds to realize just who had attacked him.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Derek only had two types of growls: ‘I’m going to rip out your throat, prepare to die.’ and ‘Stiles you’re an idiot and I’m going to rip out your idiot throat. Prepare to die.’ Neither were particularly comforting.  
  
“I could- ask--” Stiles wheezed. Derek let up on his windpipe a fraction and he gasped out the rest of his sentence. “--you the same thing.” Stiles tried to keep his body from touching Derek’s but it was hard with the way the werewolf held him pinned to the tree, right forearm across Stiles’ windpipe, left hand braced against the bark. Derek shifted so that his leg was between Stiles’, pushing him so that Stiles was off-balance, on his tippy toes, keeping him completely immobile.  
  
Funnily enough, it wasn’t easy to shove yourself into tree bark. Ms. Jenkins was always going on about ‘becoming one with nature’ but Stiles didn’t think this was quite what she meant.  
  
“Why. Are. You. Here?”  
  
Stiles felt his heart jump into his throat as he watched Derek’s eyes bleed fully to red.  
  
“My! What big eyes you have!”  
  
Here was the thing. Stiles had... issues with speaking before he thought things all the way through. It had happened once or twice in his life (and truly, he understood that this was a shock to some people) where he had gone and blurted something out without thinking about the repercussions.  
  
Making a Little Red Riding Hood allusion to a pissed-off, grouchy Alpha werewolf could possibly be one of those times.  
Derek emitted a sound that Stiles would have called a bark in less deathly-serious choke-hold against-the-tree circumstances and shifted back, his lip twitching, grip relaxing as he moved. Stiles sucked in a lungful of air and warily peered at the older man, slumping back to his feet. He bit his tongue so that he wouldn’t say something else completely idiotic.  
  
Stiles watched as Derek slid his forearm across his throat, moving it so that he was bracing himself with both hands against the bark, Stiles on the inside.  
  
“Do you know...,” Derek sounded completely conversational, “that I can hear your heartbeat when you’re afraid of me?” Stiles’ eyes almost bugged out of his head as Derek’s fingers brushed lightly against his ear, the fingernails sliding lightly down his jaw, over his bulging Adam’s apple, and down over his sternum. Stiles knew that he was wearing two layers of clothing, but he could easily imagine that he could feel the heat of Derek’s fingers against his heart.  
  
Every thought in Stiles’ head completely left his brain. He was completely mortified to feel his dick twitch in his jeans, and for a second was sure that Derek would somehow know. Instead, Stiles jerked away, ducking under Derek’s arm and putting some distance between them.  
  
“Um. Okay. Sure, that wasn’t creepy at all.” Stiles forced a laugh. Derek seemed to shake himself, and Stiles could see exactly when he remembered that he was pissed off. Or maybe he was always pissed off, and this was just a new way to fuck with him. Maybe he was just constipated. Who knew? Before Derek could roar at him, Stiles blurted out his reasons for being deep in the dark woods. “For your information, I was meeting a girl here. I didn’t know that I needed permission.”  
  
Derek just glared, his eyes glinting in the darkness. Stiles swallowed hard (for an entirely different reason) and eased away from the trunk, thinking furiously for something to fill the silence. It was crazy; like even the wildlife knew he was here with a predator.  
  
“You didn’t have any after-effects from that lizard juice? It made my own hands really numb. Of course, that was when I was trying to call 911 while staring at Godzilla goober all over my upholstery. I was totally watching that poor mechanic get...”  
  
“Wait.” Derek tensed looking like he was going to take another step forward. Stiles compensated by taking another step backwards, trying not to be obvious about looking around for escape. “You never said that the creature was in your jeep.”

  
Stiles rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain them. “Of course I did. The _problem_ is that you’re always too busy to listen to the dumb human. I mean, I know I’m not,” Stiles wiggled his fingers around to encompass having werewolf powers, “full of the kickass wolfy mojo, but I _do_ have an occasional good idea once in awhile. If you guys would bother to freaking _list--_ ”  
  
“Shut up!”  
  
“-en and don’t you dare tell me to shut up! That’s exactly what I mean! You think that--”  
  
“ _Stiles!_ ” Derek growled, wolfing out and lunging.  
  
Stiles backpedaled, tripping over a root and landing hard on his ass. His teeth clicked together around his tongue and the bright burst of pain was so shocking that he actually shut up. Derek whirled mid-leap, and there was a scream of anger that Stiles recognized from the pool area. He saw something out of the corner of his eyes, but his own reflexes weren’t anything close to moving him in time. The pain from his bitten tongue was nothing. It was like his brain, which usually focused on things so quickly that his mouth couldn’t keep up with what he was thinking about could only process incrementally, as though looking through the shutter of a camera:  
  
-A claw, flashing white in the muted light of the moon.  
  
-Derek’s growl of pure rage as he lept.  
  
-His _eye_ , ohmygodohmygodhisfucking _eye_!  
  
-Darkness. Nothing.  
  
Panic was like bile in his throat. He couldn’t **_see_**! He could only hear in fragments, just as confusing as everything else. He might have passed out. He was blind; he couldn’t hear over the frantic pounding of his heart. He had no idea how long he was cocooned in non-sensation.  
  
Stiles was so lost in the loop of panic that he didn’t realize that he could see and hear until he saw Derek, in his human form bent over him.  
  
“Stiles!”  
  
Funny. Derek actually sounded concerned. Stiles tried to snort, then realized he couldn’t. His range of vision teetered, as though a camera had been joggled, but he couldn’t do much to change that either. Derek was muttering under his breath. Stiles watched as he bent down over Stiles’ face, brushing his fingers over his range of vision.  
  
It hit Stiles then just why he couldn’t feel anything. Of course. The lizard’s venom. He was paralyzed. ... His life. Really. What the _fuck_?  
  
Derek was as close to losing his shit as Stiles had ever seen him, including when he’d killed his uncle. Stiles concentrated on calming his heartbeat, knowing that Derek would hear it. Eventually. He was pleasantly surprised to find out that he could blink, and tried blinking his eyelids at different rates, trying not to think about the fact that it looked like he was fluttering his eyelashes at Derek freaking Hale.  
  
It was extremely confusing to see Derek’s panic slowly revert to his normal stoic self. Stiles took a deep breath, then another, only realizing quite suddenly that he could hear- as though someone had unmuted the television.  
  
“--fell. Good thing you shut your eyes, or you probably would have scratched your eyeball. I think I got all of the gunk out of your ears, but you’re filthy. Shit. _Shit_. Stiles. Stiles, would you just stop for a second?”  
  
Stiles hoped that he managed to give Derek the appropriate withering look, given that he could only move about three muscles in his entire face.  
  
Derek managed to look a tiny bit abashed, belatedly realizing what he’d said. He cleared his throat. “I mean, you can understand me. Blink once for yes. Twice for no.”  
  
Stiles blinked once, wishing he knew morse code for _asshole_.  
  
“Is everything numb?”  
  
One blink.  
  
Derek let out a sigh that seemed as though it came from his toes. He leaned back for a second, and Stiles realized that he was lying on Derek’s lap, as Derek kneeled on the forest floor. If he could, his jaw would have fallen open in utter shock. Derek caught him as he slipped, snarling down at his phone.  
  
“Naturally. No signal. Well, I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that if I take you to your father like this, he’ll have me in handcuffs before I can blink.”  
  
One blink.  
  
Derek frowned down at him. He’d spent so much time frowning that it looked pretty normal on him. Still, Stiles knew his dad, and ‘overprotective’ was practically a job description. He was completely confused when his point of view jiggled, then he was suddenly a _lot_ closer to Derek than he’d anticipated. He could smell aftershave, and laundry detergent and the faint scent of clean sweat, and Stiles was pretty damn glad that Derek had thought to close his mouth. He was horrifically reminded of the way he’d reacted when Derek had gone all creeperwolf on him.  
  
All he could see was the curve of Derek’s shoulder. His brain was kind of on pause as he stared, then jump started again. What if this was permanent. What if his lungs stopped working? What if he had peed himself? What if his dad found out?  
  
Why did Derek smell so good?  
  
Thinking of Derek was a mistake. Stiles thought he had done a pretty stellar job of keeping his brain out of Derek’s pants. Given that there wasn’t exactly a manual for the how and the why of when it was appropriate to perv over the town’s resident badass, Stiles was pretty sure that realizing his tiny, little crush wasn’t exactly tiny nor little while trying to keep Derek afloat wasn’t exactly appropriate either.  
  
It had hurt- Derek telling Stiles that he didn’t trust him. Stiles was used to it, but still... it had been a jolt. He’d been so pissed at what Derek said, that he’d stubbornly thought that he could definitely make it to the phone and back. It had been weird, treading water. The pool water had been warmer than outside, so between that and Derek’s ridiculous body heat, he’d been certain that he was going to overheat. Stiles hadn’t even known you could sweat while in a giant pool of water. It had been terrifying to see that lizard creature stalking them, had been terrifying to be in such close approximation to Derek... had just been terrifying.  
  
Stiles’ vision jolted again, and he could see more light now. Glimpses of a moon about to set. He could smell burnt wood and wet dog, and both scents gave him a sense of place. Hale House. Derek went through his door and into a front room, bypassing what looked like a huge hole in the middle of the floor and going to the back of the house.  
  
Stiles couldn’t see much, now that they were in the dark house, but he blinked rapidly when Derek lit a hurricane lamp. From his perspective he could see that he was lying down on a bed. Stiles could smell Derek _everywhere_ , and he was a little alarmed to realize that his mouth was watering.  
  
Derek was crouched by his bed. Stiles heard the tapping and realized that he was probably texting someone. He cursed when his phone rang.“What? No. Tell him that he’s spending the night at your house. No. No, it should wear off soon enough. He’s safe here.”  
  
There was a high-pitched squawk from the phone that even Stiles could hear. Derek growled. Stiles could only see the top of the ceiling, and not Derek’s face, but he’d heard that particular tone on more than one occasion. “No, _No._ Enough, Scott.” Derek sounded like he was about to reach through the receiver and strangle him. He jabbed the end call button with a little more force than was necessary, and tossed his cell onto the mattress.  
  
Derek moved off and Stiles blinked up at the ceiling. This was so frustrating! He was not used to being inside his own head this much. Looking like an idiot in front of Derek wasn’t exactly new, but why oh _why_ \--...  
  
He was jolted out of his thoughts by Derek leaning over him. His eyes caught the reflection of the hurricane lamp, reflecting with a cold glint.  
  
“Here.”  
  
Stiles blinked rapidly when he saw the washcloth out of the corner of his eye. He had the weird sensation of knowing that Derek was wiping his face, but being unable to actually feel it. Just the fact that Derek was doing it at all was seriously fucking with Stiles’ worldview.  
  
“You cut your face. And your eye- it’s pretty beat up.”  
  
Stiles’ panic escalated. Was there damage? Could he see? He shut one eye, then the other to test, but didn’t seem to have any difficulty, other than Derek looking like he was moving slightly closer then slightly further away.  
  
He heard Derek’s snort. “Scott is covering for you. Better not send you back to your dad while you’re like this.”  
It was weird. Normally Derek was a man (a wolf?) of few words. But, since Stiles was unable to respond, Derek was forced to uphold the conversation by himself. Stiles didn’t really know why he was even talking in the first place. It was like when he’d seen Lydia crying in the car. Circumstances had forced these people into associating with Stiles- which why they had to be forced was beyond him because clearly he was completely awesome and it was their loss- _Lydia._  
  
Lydia! She was supposed to have met him in the woods. _What if Godzilla had found her first?_  
  
Derek froze, his eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring slightly. Stiles knew he could scent Stiles’ sudden fear, and he started blinking rapidly, wishing more than ever that he could speak.  
  
“What?” Derek leaned down slightly, adopting his _what the hell_ face.  
  
Stiles had a weird memory of looking down at Derek while he was on the floor of the vet’s office, pale and close to death. The flash made him remember Lydia, and the snarl of the lizard monster jumping at him; Derek changing and responding to the threat.  
  
Protecting him.  
  
“Christ, Stiles. Calm down.” Stiles could see Derek's hands as he brought them down to cup his face, saw Derek’s eyes, looking clear in the faint light. “Your heart. Calm. Down.” Derek’s face grew closer, closer.... _ho-ohmigod is he going to_ kiss _me?!_ before Derek rested his forehead against Stiles’. Derek’s beard stubble made a low, dark sound as Derek rubbed his cheek against stiles’ forehead, down over his cheekbone, the side of his face.  
  
Derek kept his gaze on Stiles’. If they could, his eyeballs would be bugging out of his head. Yet whatever it was that Derek was doing worked. It calmed him. Maybe it was Derek’s proximity, or the utter and complete weirdness, but Stiles could feel himself relaxing, his heartbeat slowing.  
  
“You’re almost panicked. What is it? Your dad?”  
  
Two blinks.  
  
“Scott?”  
  
Two blinks.  
  
Derek’s lips tightened. “Is it important enough that we need to chase it down?”  
  
One blink. Lydia could be dead! God, this was so _frustrating_!  
  
“Fuck. I hate twenty-questions.” Derek moved so that he wasn’t quite so close, his voice low. “Okay, so you were in the woods. Meeting someone. A girlfriend.”  
  
Stiles almost felt his eye twitch. Lydia was most definitely _not_ his girlfriend, but he _was_ meeting someone. He blinked once.  
  
“I was following the scent of that...'" Derek's hand jerked through the air. That Lizard-creature. I heard you walking around, making more noise than a bunch of damn puppies.” Derek tapped his finger against Stiles’ lips. "You will attend the next pack meeting for lessons on moving silently.”  
  
Stiles wanted to roll his eyes. Damn bossy-ass werewolf.  
  
“That... thing attacked. It must have been stalking you--” Derek’s phone rang. He popped out of Stiles line of sight, and he heard his gruff, “What?”  
  
Stiles had a very weird thought.  
  
Last night, the lizard had been in his jeep. Today, Lydia had been bawling in her car. Stiles had said he would talk to her (watching a girl cry was just about the worst thing in the world) then the lizard showed up in the pool room. Lydia had emailed him to meet her... and the lizard showed up to attack. Could it... No. No way. Well, stranger things had happened. Like Beacon Hills being the California chapter of the lost puppies club. Like Derek Hale taking care of him. Like the most popular girl in the school being a crazed paralysis-inducing Godzilla reject.  
  
“-then get it.” Stiles blinked, realizing that Derek had hung up.  
  
“Scott covered it. His mother is apparently working a double. Something’s up; he’s refusing to leave the hospital. He wouldn’t tell me. _Damn_ it!”  
  
Stiles would have winced if he could. He knew if he wasn’t here, Derek would be chasing down what mattered most to him- his pack. Guilt was sour bile in his throat. But... Lydia. Stiles had jumped from idea to idea before and been dead wrong. He didn’t think he could handle it if he was wrong again. He and Lydia weren’t close- not by any stretch of the imagination, but he did care about her. Hell, he’d been in love with her since before he’d known how to write his name in cursive.  
  
Derek huffed out a determined breath. His face appeared over Stiles’ again, in his line of sight. “You were meeting a girl. So it’s either Allison or that redhead. The one my uncle attacked. You don’t know any other girls.”  
  
Derek wasn’t trying to be hateful, but god, that sounded pathetic. And creepy. How the hell did Derek know that? Okay, sure it was one thing for the morons at Beacon Hills High to know that Stiles was a complete reject with girls, but for Derek to just throw it out there? Fact or Fiction? Not cool. Even more uncool was the fact that he was right.  
  
“Linda. No... Lydia. You were meeting her in the woods?” There was a flash of something that Stiles couldn’t quite identify, then Derek’s eyebrows rose as he smirked. “Niiice, kid. So, am I right?”  
  
Stiles blinked _really hard_ , as though the ‘fuck you’ was as obvious.  
  
“Well, I didn’t scent anything else out there. The creature ran off when I attacked it. I was distracted by you getting swiped, and it got away.” Derek shrugged. “Don’t worry. It won’t hide from me again.”  
  
The relief of knowing that she wasn’t hurt was absolute. Derek would have ever left a human kill in the woods, no matter what. Keeping his pack safe was paramount to him. Stiles closed his eyes, listening to his own heartbeat, focusing on it like he used to do when he had jumped off a diving board and crashed underwater, when everything else but the sound of his blood in his ears was muted. Distant.  
  
“Hey. Look. It took a little over two hours for it to wear off for me. You got hit by it in the garage, but it didn’t get into your bloodstream. I’m guessing that you’ll be out for at least eight hours. Maybe longer. You can stay here. Sleep here in my bed. I have some stuff to take care of, but I won’t be far. I won’t let anything happen to you Stiles.” Derek’s lips twisted in a small smirk. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.”  
  
Stiles’ eyes popped open.  
  
It took a long time for him to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm not always as on top of things. I anticipate that this story will be updated every two or three days. :)

**Chapter 2**  
  
When Stiles woke up, it was with a bladder that was way too full, and with a mouth that was way too dry. He started to yawn, bringing up a fist to knuckle at his eyes. He blinked bleary-eyed at the wall, too sleep-stupid to realize that he wasn’t at home. Stiles felt something move and he had to tug his hand out from under a body. He felt the brush of naked skin and muscles and made a face. Stiles became aware that his legs were tangled up with someone else’s, and they were laying half on his body, pressed close.  
  
“--Scott? Whafuck.” He mumbled. He knew that weres liked to cuddle. Something about pack building. It wasn’t the first time that they had passed out on the same bed and woken up tangled together, but it was the first time Scott had decided to snuggle without a shirt. _Gross_. That meant that he and Allison had touched the same... Stiles made a horrified face.“Dude.”  
  
The body froze and Stiles was sure that he heard what sounded like a low growl. Weird. Scott wasn’t very good at growling yet. He sounded more like a really pissed-off puppy. _This_ sounded more like---  
  
Stiles whipped his head around, coming face-to-face with Derek Hale. It was Stiles’ turn to freeze, trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. He felt a lot like all the other times he’d been cornered by Derek; only he was close enough that he could count individual eyelashes.  Stiles couldn’t help the maidenly squeak nor the tug of the sheets to his chest as he turned on his side. The bed was a queen-sized, but it felt very small when sharing it with a grouchy, growly werewolf.  
  
Stiles was too shocked to dive off of the bed, but he wasn’t about to abandon that as plan B should he need it later.  
  
“Um. Good. Ah,morning?”  
  
Derek’s lip twitched. Stiles had seen _that_ before; it was the prelude-to-snarl-twitch. and he was still growling, low in chest. Stiles could feel the tiny vibrations in the miniscule space between their bodies.  
  
Stiles was also mortified to realize in that weird way his mind was cataloging everything that was happening to him that he was also as hard as a rock.  
  
Plan B it was then. He landed with a flaily squawk, the sheet, and a face full of dust-bunnies.  
  
Stiles jumped up, tripping over the shoes that had been left over the side of the bed and whirled, staring down at Derek feeling horrified. Humiliated. Humilified. ““Ow. Um. I’ll just .. uh. be right back.” Stiles took his shame and confusion and his stupid morning hard-on and speed-walked to the bathroom, hoping that Derek was too sleepy to notice.  
  
Stiles avoided looking himself in the eyes as he passed by the mirror, unzipping his jeans as he went. Peeing with a hard dick wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to do, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to jack off with Derek freaking Hale twenty feet away. He glared down at himself, realized he was tapping his foot, and made himself stop.  
  
Stiles hung his head, then waited for what seemed like forever until his body quit being completely stupid.  
  
He flushed the toilet, then turned to wash his hands. He looked like shit. Giant circles were under his eyes, his skin pale and a little sweaty. He still had eye-crusties in his left eye. _Nice._ He really wasn’t showing off the full Stiles experience today. Derek probably thought---  
  
Stiles made himself stop thinking that particular train of thought _im_ mediately. _That way lies madness_. He couldn't quite meet his own gaze in the mirror, but when he looked, he could see little red marks from where the sheet had bunched up under his cheek while he had been sleeping. Derek must have taken his tshirt and hoodie off, because he was naked except for the jeans. He yawned again, wincing a little when his jaw popped. Stiles turned his head and saw the white bandage on the back of his neck. It looked like some blood had seeped through it and Stiles felt vaguely nauseous as he pulled up the tape and stared at the small, thin cut across the back of his neck.  
  
His vague hope that this was a weird sort of dream vanished. Stiles couldn’t help touching it, frowning a little bit at the sting. The skin around it looked puffy- like it was infected.  
  
Shit. _Why_ did things like this always happen to him? Stiles glared at the closed door, then figured he could use the excuse of brushing his teeth so that he didn’t have to go back out there to face Derek.  
  
Stiles struggled with about .002 seconds of guilt before he began snooping around, peeking in Derek’s cabinets. You could learn a lot about a person from their cabinets. Stiles learned that Derek preferred Colgate over Crest, that he apparently stockpiled extra toothbrushes and boy butter.  
  
Stiles was surprised that he didn’t _stroke out_ when he saw the large container. He’d gotten as far as _why the hell does Derek keep butter in the bathro--_ before he’d flushed so hard that he saw spots for a second, the words ‘personal lubricant’ practically burning into his brain.  
  
Stiles brushed his teeth in record time, using one of the extra toothbrushes. He was in the middle of bending over to spit when Derek pounded on the door, causing him to jump almost out of his skin.  
  
“--ust aah inute!” Stiles spit and washed out his mouth then put the brush precisely on the counter. He turned and straightened the towel on the shower rod, then didn’t think that he could stall any more.  
  
 _Okay. Be cool. This is only a big deal to you. Relax_ Stiles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, opened the door and stepped out into Derek’s bedroom. It was empty. Derek had made the bed and left a shirt folded neatly near the pillow. Stiles wiggled his toes against the hardwood floor then went to go put on the shirt Derek had left for him. It was just a t-shirt, but Stiles couldn’t help the feeling of--something-- that hit him when he slipped it over his head and shoulders. The material was old and had obviously been washed until it was almost threadbare in spots. It was a little too big for him and it made him blush a little when he put it on. He felt like a kid playing dress-up. He couldn’t find his socks, so he shoved his bare feet into his sneakers, shivering a little. He knew in theory that Derek was renovating the house. There must be window open, or a draft somewhere.  
  
Stiles made a face and turned to go down the stairs. He wasn’t sure why he felt so weird. But between last night and waking up with Derek curled around him, he just felt... off. Jittery. Like his skin was a size too small. Like he’d skipped his Adderall, then compensated with a Red Bull.  
  
When he clattered down the stairs, he was kind of surprised not to see the rest of Derek’s pack downstairs. He thought for sure Scott would be there at least. Stiles tried not to feel hurt. He should be used to that by now. He understood that Scott had a lot going on in his life right now. He just wished that one of those things was Stiles- and not just when he needed something _from_ Stiles.  
  
He followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. There were signs that Derek had been rebuilding. The smell of sawdust was strong in the air, and Stiles could see plastic sheeting still stapled to the wall. He shivered a little. Even though it was almost summer, it was still pretty cool in the mornings.  
  
“Sit down.”  
  
Stiles jumped and jerked his gaze to Derek, who was futzing around at the sink, washing dishes.  
  
And almost swallowed his tongue.  
  
It wasn’t like Stiles had never realized that Derek was kind of stupidly attractive. He’d _tried_ not to... and okay yeah that wasn’t always very successful. But this was ridiculous. Stiles had watched _porn_ that wasn’t this hot. Derek was wearing just a pair of jeans that had dipped low on his hips. The tattoo was as eye-catching as usual, but it paled in comparison to the rest of his back. The muscles on the long expanse of Derek's back bunched as he washed the dishes. Stiles hadn’t known that Derek had two tiny dimples at the base of his spine, but the knowledge was now firmly burned into his retinas. Derek turned with an inquiring eyebrow, and Stiles scuttled to the table.  
  
Stiles had his hands around the mug and was bringing it gratefully to his lips before Stiles quite knew what was happening.  
  
“So, thank you? I mean, for last night. For uh. You know. Not leaving me to become Stiles jerky for Godzilla.”  
  
Derek shrugged and walked over to the table, bringing a small plate. “Thank you for not letting me drown.” He set the plate onto the table. “Sorry- I usually don’t eat breakfast.”  
  
The toast was only a little charcoaled, the butter melted enough that it had soaked into the bread. The word butter caused Stiles to flush, remembering the tub-o-lube up in Derek’s bathroom. Stiles snatched a piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth, chewing so that he wouldn’t talk. It was a diversion tactic that served him well. The toast tasted like sandpaper in his mouth. It must have been a little stale because it caused his stomach to turn a little. He set down the other half and took a sip of coffee.  
  
“This your first morning after?”  
  
Stiles made a sound that he would most _emphatically_ deny was an ‘eep!’ of pure terror and jerked his gaze up to meet Derek’s.  
  
“What?! No! I mean...yes! I mean... oh my god _what_?”  
  
Derek’s lips twitched again.  
  
“Is this _humor?_ It must be. Oh my _god._ ” Stiles took a giant gulp of his coffee. It was the perfect temperature, hot enough to make his mouth tingle, but cool enough that he didn’t scorch himself. Derek had even known how he drank it. He tried the toast again, but it still made his stomach jump around unpleasantly.  
  
Derek opened his mouth to respond, but tilted his head instead as though he was listening. “Scott. He just turned down the drive.” Stiles gulped his coffee, flooded with relief that he wouldn’t have to sit here and make awkward small talk with Derek. He forced a smile that faded away quickly when he saw the carefully blank look on Derek’s face.  
  
Sure enough, a few minutes later Stiles heard the squeal of brakes and the slam of a car door.  
  
“Derek! Stiles!” There was the slam of a door and Scott ran inside, coming right to the kitchen. He gave them a weird look and Stiles lifted his chin, defiantly taking another drink of his coffee.  
  
“Holy crap, man. Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” For once, Stiles had no interest in filling up the silence. Like, what would he even say?  
  
“You won’t even believe what happened to me. Derek! I kept trying to tell you, but you wouldn’t let me. Principal Argent! He _knows_ what I am!”  
  
Stiles winced. It was way too damn early in the morning for that many exclamation points. Either the toast or the coffee had caused his head to begin to throb with a dull ache. He pinched the top of his nose and took a deep breath, finishing the coffee in a few more gulps.  
  
“Scott. We will discuss this later. I want you to take him home.” Derek jerked his head towards Stiles.  
  
“But Derek! If he knows what I am, then he’s going to start thinking--”  
  
The low snarl caused Scott to stop mid-sentence.  
  
Stiles had the weird urge to laugh. It was so weird to see Derek pissed at anyone else. Derek went to a room at the back of the kitchen. There was the sound of a dryer opening and closing.  
  
Scott looked at Stiles, his nose flaring slightly. Stiles just shook his head, and Scott nodded, understanding that he didn’t want to talk right now.  
  
Derek came back with Stiles’ t shirt, hoodie and socks. He put it on gratefully. He was so freaking cold! He put his mug into the soapy water Derek had left and shifted uncomfortably, shoving the socks into the pockets of his hoodie.  
  
“Uh so. Thanks. Again, I mean.”  
  
Derek just shrugged, a muscle working in his jaw. Just like that he was back to being broody the sourwolf Stiles knew and lo--...  
  
Yeah. Definitely time to go.  
  
Scott just turned without a word, glaring a little mulishly but managing to keep his mouth shut. Stiles turned and left with him. They walked down the steps and to Ms. McCall’s car, Stiles sliding into the passenger seat with a small sigh.  
  
Scott gunned the engine and they were off. By unspoken agreement, neither spoke until they were well out of wolf-earshot.  
“Dude so are you going to tell me why you freaking _reek_ of Derek? Did you guys.. uh.. wait. Nevermind. I don’t think that I really want to know. Not that I mind! Ha! Haha!"  
  
“Scott. No, I just slept. The lizard thing... it got me. I was knocked out for awhile and Derek took care of me.”  
  
“Derek. Derek _Hale_ took care of _you_? Why would he do that? I mean, you’re not pack.”  
  
Stiles couldn’t hide the burst of pain he felt at Scott’s words. He sucked in a breath and pressed his aching head back against the car-rest, trying to ignore it. Why did everything always seem to come back to this?  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
“I guess because he felt he had to. Not trying to be a dick here, but it’s been a really fucked up few days. I want to sleep for a week. What did you tell my dad?”  
  
“Oh, just that you’d lost your phone and that we were going to be at my place playing Mass Effect.”  
  
Stiles snorted. He didn’t really like lying to his dad, but had been doing it for so long to keep everyone safe that it was almost second nature now. Still, he felt like a dick for doing it. One day Karma was going to settle up, and it was going to be painful. “Thanks, man.”  
  
“Seriously, are you okay? I mean.. you seem kind of.. quiet.”  
  
“Yeah. Just tired. Lydia emailed me. She wanted me to meet her to talk about something. But I got lost, and Derek found me. Then that thing from last night attacked and I wasn’t able to move for like, a billion hours.” Stiles tried to sniff himself unobtrusively. He couldn’t smell anything. Just the fabric softener from his freshly laundered hoodie. Scott was acting like Derek had pissed on him or something.  
  
“Jeez.” Scott was silent for another minute. “But you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah.” Stiles closed his eyes and Scott seemed to be lost in his own thoughts as he drove.  
  
'Not Pack'. That was the problem. The thing that Stiles struggled with. He _could_ have been. Peter Hale had been willing, almost eager enough to bite him. He just didn’t understand how he could spend so much time running around from crisis to crisis, lying to his dad, getting Scott and Derek out of trouble over and over again... but he still wasn’t quite good enough to be considered as part of the pack. It was like high school all over again. Second string on Lacrosse. Had a lot of friends, but to people like Lydia and Jackson he was just someone who was in class with them, the guy who sometimes said something funny. Awesome, but not quite awesome enough.  
  
Scott pulled into his driveway and put the car in park. “You good?”  
  
“Yeah. You don’t have to go in. Derek probably wants to talk to you about Principal Argent. Better to get back.”  
  
Scott hunched in on himself, giving off the image of a puppy with its tail between its legs. “Yeah, probably. Look, I’ll call you later, okay?”  
  
“My phone’s toast, remember? You’ll have to email me.” Stiles raised his eyebrows and forced a grin. “Thanks for the ride. Sorry to stink up your car. I’ll go take a shower.”  
  
“Yeah. See you.” Scott pulled out of the driveway with a little wave. Stiles sighed and stooped to get the key from the hollow rock. He always told his dad that it was pretty stupid to leave the key to their house in such an obvious place, but his dad had just raised his eyebrows and said that if some stupid kid was dumb enough to break into the Sherrif’s house, he had worse problems to deal with.  
  
Stiles shivered again and pulled his hoodie around him, rubbing his cheek into the comforting fleece warmth. _Shit._ Stiles didn't know why he was so down on himself. He hadn't been this whiny since freshman year and the whole Curly Hair Incident.  The thought of food still turned his stomach, so he avoided the kitchen, moving to run up the stairs to his room. There was a small scrape of sound to his left and Stiles froze, unsure. Stiles whirled and saw his dad standing at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed across his chest. “Oh...” Fuck. “Hi, Dad.”  
  
“Stiles.” His dad turned on his foot and disappeared into the kitchen. Stiles winced. The last time he’d done that Stiles had been grounded for about forever and three months. _Shit_.  
  
His dad was sitting in the kitchen with his fingers pointed under his head, staring at a half-full tumbler of whiskey. Stiles froze in mid-step. It couldn’t be more than eleven in the morning. Maybe he’d fucked up and his dad was off unexpectedly, but for him to be drinking in the middle of the day? No. Not even close to normal.  
  
Not since Mom.   
  
And _that_ freaked Stiles the fuck _out_.  
  
“Do you want to tell me why you spent the night at Derek Hale’s house?”  
  
Stiles felt his knees go weak.  
  
“Uh. No? No I do not.”  
  
“Hmm. We won’t even get to or the fact that you had Scott lie for you while you. .. spent the night.” His dad took a sip of the whiskey, rolling it from hand to hand. “I’d really like to focus on the fact that you’re seven _teen_. A teenager. You're not even out of high school yet. Stiles. What the _hell_?”  
  
Stiles sank down in his chair opposite his dad. He was too tired to process this. Derek must have given him the decaf or something, because his mind was moving as though through mush.  
  
“Uh.”  
  
His dad took another drink. “Do you have anything else to say?”  
  
That brain-to-filter thing just completely died on him. He was too tired, and too worried about his dad's worry to lie. “Last night ... I was attacked. Twice, actually.”  
  
His dad jolted up like he’d been electrocuted. The bottle of alcohol juttered when his dad's knee hit the table. “What!” He was in front of Stiles before he could blink, putting the back of his hand to Stiles’ forehead. “Jesus, you’re burning up! What happened? What did that fucking son of a bitch--”  
  
“No! Dad! I’m _fine_. Derek... “ Stiles made a disgruntled face. “He saved me actually. I know, that totally makes me the princess. I had Scott lie for me because... well.” He waved his hand around. His dad seemed to get it. “Yeah. I’m really not feeling well though. Do you mind if I go crash?”  
  
His dad gave him a long, searching look. “That’s not all, is it?”  
  
Stiles breathed out, then shook his head. “No.”  
  
“Go and crash. We’ll talk when you’re done. You’re sure you’re okay?”  
  
“Yeah, dad. Just really tired.” His dad's frown made him a little nervous. One thing about Sherrif Micheal Stilinski, he was really, really good at biding his time. Stiles knew that he wasn't getting a reprieve as much as his dad was taking time to gather his evidence. But, when his dad gave him a kind of awkward hug, Stiles couldn't help the way his throat tightened.  He didn't say anything as he walked upstairs to his room.  
  
Stiles stripped down to his boxers and climbed into his bed with a groan. He was cold, shivering enough that he almost went to get another blanket, but was too tired to fuck with it. He stared up the the ceiling, blinking, too tired to sleep. Fuck. _Fuck_ , this was ridiculous.  It took him two tries to get out of bed, but he made it to his computer, opening the lid and glaring off into space.  
  
Derek had called it a Kanima. Stiles rolled his eyes. That was one place to start. He might not be pack, but he had a job to do, regardless. _Somebody_ had to find out what the fuck that thing was.  
  
Before it killed someone else.

 

tbc!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) I made it so that it's set at the end of school; sorry if that's not canon. 2) Also, this is officially an AU due to the damn writers not doing anything that I expected, _jeez!_ 3) I seem to be banging this out more quickly than I had anticipated, but my usual posting schedule is once every 2-3 days. :) 4) If anyone is interested in betaing for me, please let me know. ♥

The last day of school was overcast. They were close enough to the North corner of Oregon that they got a pretty fair amount of rain. People thought all of California was Hollywood and beaches and botox. Stiles winced at a crack of thunder and parked his jeep, sighing. His phone beeped, and he glanced down at it.  
  
The phone had just appeared on his bed one day while he'd been in the shower. Derek had been the first person to text him, but Stiles hadn’t exactly needed a reminder of who would have gone to the trouble to get him a phone. The text had just read ‘Sorry you lost yours. Hope this is a good substitute.’ Of course it was. Derek had gotten him an exact replica of his last phone.  
  
In the past week since everything had happened, Stiles had heard from Jackson, who had been told by Issac that Derek had taken Erica and gone on a hunt for the creature. With the Argents. Talk about a freaking ballsy move.  
  
Whatever was going on with Principal Argent and Allison’s scary-as-fuck mom was _another_ thing that had happened without Stiles being in the loop. All he knew is that Scott had stopped talking, that Derek and his new packmates had taken off for fuck knew where. Stiles had been able to avoid his dad for most of the time, making sure he was gone when his dad was getting home, pretending to be asleep, going into school early. Things like that.  
  
There was a tapping on his jeep window and Stiles jolted. Lydia smiled at him. Stiles knew gaping wasn’t exactly attractive, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.  
  
That was another thing.  
  
Lydia had ... started being friendly. Well, it had helped that she acknowledged him when he walked into a room instead of looking through him, but there were definite tones of friendliness when she talked to or texted him.  
  
His life was weird.  
  
“Hi, Lydia.”  
  
“So did you mean it when you said that we could study for our English tests together? I’ve been really distracted lately and could definitely use the help. They’re letting me take them late since I was in the hospital so long.”  
  
“Sure. That’s cool. My last one is today.” Lydia took a step back, and Stiles got of out of the jeep, slamming the door shut with his hip. “I don’t get why it has to be cumulative. That’s just!” He shook his head.  
  
Lydia was nodding, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. Like, what’s the point? To see how much we could cram into our brains to pass a test? It’s not like anyone remembers that crap.”  
  
Stiles kind of remembered that crap, but he wasn’t stupid enough to mention it at this particular juncture. “I know. So yeah. You know where I live?”  
  
“Yeah.” Her phone rang. She gave a little finger wave and Stiles stopped to watch the view as she walked away. He considered giving himself a high-five but thought that would look really stupid so managed to refrain. He turned and walked right into someone a solid mass of muscle. Hands came around to cup his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall, and Stiles gasped a little, shocked.  
  
“Derek!” Jesus Christ, how did he just _appear?_  
  
Derek raised an eyebrow and took a step away from Stiles. “Your text said you had something important for me.”  
  
Stiles knew he was gaping like an idiot. The first bell rang and he cringed. It was the last day; and his final wasn’t for another fifty minutes. He turned and got back into the jeep, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He had sent the text like, three days ago. He hadn’t gotten a response and hadn’t really thought about it. Okay. Fine. He’d only stared at his phone, _willing_ it to text him back... maybe twice. Or five times. Whatever.  
  
Derek walked around and slid into the passenger side seat.  
  
“Do you want an egg burrito? I want an egg burrito. Donelly’s has the best, and I want one.”  
  
Derek just looked at him. Stiles was flooded with images that he thought he’d done a pretty damn good job of burying deep in his subconscious, but just seeing him again had them all dancing in technicolor in his brain. He hoped that werewolves couldn’t smell the way his dick went half-hard at just the scent of Derek that was suddenly prevalent throughout his jeep.  
“That sounds fine.” Derek looked at him again, staring right at him. It was disconcerting as hell _._ “Your eye is looking much better.”  
  
Stiles sucked in a deep breath. His skin had that too-tight feeling again. Then what he said hit him. “My eye?”  
  
Derek rolled his eyes. “Stiles. That lizard scratched your eyelid, and part of your cheekbone. I thought you were going to lose your eye. I almost said ‘fuck it’ and took you to Dr. Denton.”  
  
Stiles immediately brought his hand up to his eye. It had been a week, but even that morning he'd woken up, in the bathroom there hadn’t been so much as a scratch. “Wh--what?”  
  
Derek looked away, the faintest of pink tinges on his cheeks.  
  
Stiles was fascinated.  
  
Derek cleared his throat. “The saliva of a werewolf has healing properties. There--”  
  
“YOU **_LICKED_** ME?!!” The jeep screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Stiles couldn’t help it; he could only gape at Derek like a complete idiot.  
  
“Drive, Stiles.” The growl was back in his voice. Derek stared out the windshield, muscle in his jaw twitching.  
  
“But! You! _Tongue!_ ” Stiles wheezed, still gaping.  
  
Derek just turned and stared at him. There was a honk, and Stiles jolted, letting his foot off the break just in time to catch a red light.  
  
Stiles mentally flailed a bit, looking for something to say. Usually this was not an issue with him. “You said you don’t really eat breakfast, but you know that breakfast really is the most important meal of the day but if you don’t want something greasy Donelly’s makes--”  
  
“Stiles.” Derek’s hand shot out to clamp over his wrist. “Calm down.”His nostrils flared slightly, and Stiles winced again.  
“Please don’t tell me I smell bad. Scott said that I reeked.” Stiles laughed a terribly fake laugh, nodded and pulled on his wrist.  
  
Derek let him go immediately, still watching him. “Did he?”  
  
“Yeah. Like ‘Eau de Derek’. I don’t know what it is with you guys and smell. Do we like... smell bad all the time?”  
  
“Not bad exactly. Just different.”  
  
Huhnnh. Different bad or different good? Stiles took a left, then a right and pulled up into the drive-thru. There was the usual morning rush, and Stiles blurted out his question before he could make himself stop. “What do I smell like?”  
  
Derek went very still, leaning forward slightly and inhaling. He looked at Stiles. Stiles had frozen as well, his brain going from a panicked _what the fuh--_ to a blessedly quiet white noise. Derek tilted his head down even further, and for one crazy second Stiles thought that Derek was going to kiss him. Derek lightly moved his lips closer to Stiles’ cheekbone, so that they were centimeters from his skin. Derek moved down, burying his nose in the spot under Stiles’ ear and Stiles bit his lip hard to keep the needy little sound that he desperately needed to make behind his teeth. Derek breathed deeply. Stiles dick went from half-hard to uncomfortable as it pressed against the inside zipper of his jeans.  
  
“Are you sure you want to know?”  
  
Stiles opened his mouth to answer when a blare of a horn behind him caused him to jump. Derek was back in his seat before he could blink, leaving Stiles to meet the gaze of the disgruntled driver behind him. His eyes widened. “Ohhh, _shiiiiiiit_ ,” he breathed. In the rear-view mirror, his father’s very, _very_ unhappy face stared back at him from the police cruiser.  
  
Stiles inched the jeep up to the drive-thru window on autopilot.  
  
“Stiles?” Derek gave him a very weird look.  
  
“Yeah just a second. “Hello? Hello! Ha! Ha ha! Isn’t a beautiful morning! No I would not like to dry a Donnely’s Delight. I _would_ however be happy to have two egg and sausage burritos and one very large coffee. Make that two coffees.” He turned. “Do you want anything else?” Derek shook his head. “And I would like to buy the breakfast of the hard-working police chief back behind us. Because I am an excellent citizen.” Derek stiffened besides him, looking behind the jeep’s seat with a muttered curse.  
  
There was a pause. “Um. Do y’all want cream and sugar with that?”  
  
“Yes, indeed. Thank you very much.” He inched up a little further. “So, okay. That definitely didn’t look good. And my dad? Yeah, my dad’s behind us in case you didn’t put that together. Or! Or perhaps you did given that you’re a super freaked out. I don’t know why _you_ would be freaked out. You’re not the one that had to explain the bruises from several rather pants-shittingly terrifying nights to an extremely overprotective dad. Because! You heal. Ah-haha. I hope that this is a really good burrito because my dad is going to fucking kill me.” Stiles huffed out a breath, gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles went white, locking his teeth together so that he would shut. up.  
  
“Hi! That will be fourteen-fifty!”  
  
“Here’s thirty. Do me a favor? Can you tell the Sheriff that his son loves him and any death he is perhaps plotting can wait until after my English final?”  
  
“Uh.... sure....”  
  
“Great.” Stiles frowned, handing Derek his coffee. His dick gave a pathetic jump when their fingers brushed together. _Stupid dick._ He handed the lady the contents of his wallet and took the grease-spotted bag in exchange. He dug into the bag and shoved a burrito in his mouth, munching decisively. He put the rest back into the bag, knowing that if his dad saw him eating behind the wheel of a car his life and chances of driving ever again would be over.  
  
Stiles didn’t bother trying to evade what he knew was going to happen next. He drove back to the school, obeying every single rule of the road, completely and utterly unsurprised when his dad followed him. Derek was strangely quiet. beside him, sipping his coffee without even an amused snort.  
  
“Well. This has been... interesting. Good luck on your final. Thank you for the coffee.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
It wasn’t until after Derek had walked back to his Camaro and Stiles had slunk into the school that Stiles realized that he had never told Derek what he’d found out about the Kamina.  
  
“Fuuuuuuck!”  
  
At least his burritos were good.  
  
***  
  
Stiles’ phone was ominously quiet on the texting front. His dad hadn’t had one thing to say. They must teach that level of abject fear in parent school: _worrying_ about what was going to happen was just as terrifying as _knowing_ what was going to happen. He’d finished his finals, said goodbye to the three or four people he knew that were graduating, then had driven home. He’d even whistled as he ran up the steps, unlocked his door, and walked into his house. His dad was here.  
Obviously he’d be completely thrown off the scent of groundation by Stiles’ freakishly cheerful whistling. He tossed his backpack near the couch and ran upstairs, aiming for his room.  
  
It was kind of a shock to find Lydia Martin curled up on his bed, reading a book. Stiles actually blinked twice before he figured out that no, his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.  
  
“H-hello?”  
  
She looked up at him, and Stiles flinched. He could see that she had been crying. In the low light of the room, she looked utterly exhausted.  
  
“Your mom used to be my favorite teacher.”  
  
Stiles actually staggered for a minute. Lydia wasn’t looking at the English book he thought she’d be looking at, but instead looking through the photo album he and his dad had made, sitting cross-legged on the bed. “Oh? Uh. Yeah. I’ve heard that a few times. Thank you.” Awkward didn’t even begin to cover it. Awkward wasn’t even in the same word bank as what he  
was feeling at the moment.  
  
“Your dad let me in.”  
  
“My--.” Oh dear Jesus jumping Christ on a polka-dotted mule. There was no way to explain this. Stiles didn’t even try to leave the door closed. His dad was going to have quite a lot to say, between catching him at Derek’s, catching him _with_ Derek and not in school, and meeting the drop-dead gorgeous girl that was currently making herself at home on his bed.  
  
What the fuck was his _life_ , seriously!  
  
“Is that a problem? It’s Hemingway, not Hentai.”  
  
Stiles kind of loved her a little bit for knowing what Hentai was. “Right! He’s pretty cool. Um, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you.. uh.. sure that you’re okay?”  
  
She glared at him. “What do you mean?”  
  
Stiles held up his hands and cautiously eased one hip onto the corner of his mattress. “You just...” Lydia turned her head, ready to flounce off the bed. Stiles saw the cut on the back of her neck and whipped out his hand to grab her arm under her shoulder.  
  
“Hey! What the--! Stiles!” Her furious hiss was loud in the quiet room.  
  
But Stiles was too busy pawing at her long, red hair, scooping it off of her neck to see if what he thought he’d seen was real. The elbow way too close to his nuts was expected and easily avoided. Lydia hissed like a cat, pushing with her shoulder so that she rolled off the bed.  
  
“Wait!” Stiles cut his gaze to his open door, then to where Lydia was standing, chest heaving. She had his mom’s photo album in her hand, ready to wing it. Stiles didn’t think- just reacted, faceplanting into his mattress and pointing to the back of his neck. The past week had made the small gash look less angry and infected looking, but it still stung when touched. There was a large lump just under the skin that Stiles was too afraid to prod to hard. He’d seen _Aliens_ too many times: no fucking thanks.  
  
He chanced a glance up and Lydia was crying again, just completely weeping silently, one hand to her mouth. The photo album slid from her grip to the floor with a thump. Stiles was up on his feet in a second, holding her, a little freaked out, but he felt too sorry to leave her just standing there. It was even more surprising that she allowed him to hold her like this.  
  
Lydia was a mess; snot and tears everywhere, her face hot against Stiles’ neck. He saw his dad peek in the door with his eyebrows raised. Stiles gave him a ‘I have no idea’ sort of expression and his dad frowned, then shut the door with a small click. Stiles wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands. He rested one on her shoulder and the other he used to awkwardly pat her back. Stiles felt tears in his own eyes. Jesus. Stiles didn’t have anywhere else to steer her but his bed. He tried not to feel skeeved out- like the world’s biggest creeper- as she sobbed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Stiles reached a little to his left for the kleenex he kept there for... other reasons... and tried to hand her some. Lydia wouldn’t let go but moved with him so that they were both lying on Stiles’ bed, Lydia still sobbing.  
  
Stiles didn’t know how long she cried and he held her, but it was dark when her sobs trailed off to snuffles, the snuffles to these adorable little hiccups, then the hiccups to the occasional huff of breath.  
  
All Stiles could hear was his clock, ticking quietly. “Hey.” He whispered. “I’m going to get you a drink, okay? Do you want the light?” There seemed to be a large blockage in Stiles’ throat. He remembered the last time she’d flopped over on him. He’d thought he was about to come in his pants. This though? This was different. he cleared his throat moved to sit up.  
  
Lydia shook her head, still buried in his collarbone. She hugged him tightly for a minute, then let go, curling up protectively on herself. Stiles sniffed and went into his bathroom for a cool cloth. The house was quiet when he went downstairs to get a bottle of water. Stiles knew his dad was stockpiling things to “discuss” with him. At this rate he’d have to take a sick day just so that they can talk about everything, but for crying females and the taking care of, his dad was willing to keep himself scarce.. something that Stiles really, _really_ appreciated.  
  
Stiles jogged back up the stairs to find that Lydia hadn’t moved. Stiles didn’t quite know what to do. “Lydia?” Her wet eyes glinted in the dark room. He held out the water, and went to get her washcloth that he’d left in the sink. It felt good to take care of someone. Stiles bit his lip, then told himself not to be such a dumbass and stretched out on the bed.  
  
“I can’t remember what happened to me. I’m having these... dreams. When I’m awake.” Her voice was wrecked, a tiny whisper in his room. She shifted, pushing Stiles back onto his back and lying down on his arm. “I... can’t remember what I’m doing. Since that... that man attacked me. I woke up, and it’s like I’m still dreaming half the time.” Stiles froze, his heart giving a funny sort of wiggle, then relaxed, feeling extremely awkward as he patted her back. She gave a really disgustingly wet sniff, and leaned up to get at his kleenex. Stiles shifted with her, moving so that he didn’t get a boob in his face.  
  
“It’s just... everything is... Allison said that you’re a really sweet person and ... I wasn’t going to dump all this on you but I couldn’t. And then you had it too, and I just...”  
  
“Lost your shit. Yeah. It’s okay. I’ve always wanted to make a beautiful woman burst into hysterical tears. In my bed.” Stiles gave her a truly ridiculous eyebrow wiggle and she obliged him with a weak, watery-sounding chuckle.  
  
“So, how did it get you?”  
  
“I was stupid. Waiting for Jackson outside of the locker room. It was late... and sometimes we. Uh.”  
  
“Bone like monkeys?” Stiles’ grin was a bright flash in the darkness. He deserved the sharp elbow to the ribs, and only wheezed a little.  
  
“You?”  
  
“In the woods. About a week ago.”  
  
Lydia sucked in a deep breath, realizing exactly why he’d been in the woods in the first place. Stiles found himself squeezing her, like she needed the comfort more than he did.  
  
They were quiet. Stiles listened to her breathing slow down, become deeper, even as she fell asleep. He was at once both completely freaked and totally proud of himself that of all the people she knew, somehow she had trusted _him_ with this. She smelled girly; like some kind of flower. Stiles breathed deeply and raised an eyebrow at the ceiling, waiting for his body to react. Derek had just _sat in his car_ and he’d practically busted a nut. Lydia Martin. Lydia. _freaking._ Martin. was asleep in his bed, curled up into him completely trustingly, her hand clenched on his t shirt like she was afraid he’d push her away.  
  
So yeah. Suddenly realizing that he wasn’t into her. That was a thing now.  
  
Stiles watched the shadows lengthen and change over his ceiling until his eyes drifted shut, his own breathing unconsciously matching Lydia’s. The clock ticked. The house settled as older houses do, quiet in the dark night.  
Stiles was so tired, and so deeply asleep that he didn’t notice when his door popped open with a small click. He didn’t notice the concerned, but helplessly fond look on his dad’s face, or the way he raised his eyebrow and smirked a little before shaking his head and shutting the door again, moving on soundless feet back to his bedroom.  
  
Nor did Stiles notice, hours later,  the almost soundless _sniiiick_ of his window sliding open, the jean-clad leg that eased its way through, or the way the intruder froze on the windowsill. Eyes gleamed red in the dark night, as the nostrils flared, smelled the stink of the mixed scents in the room.  
  
Stiles’ dad understood his son, understood how much he needed to help; to feel needed, to be kind to someone who needed him. He saw the way they’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, curled together in an innocent sleep.  
  
Derek Hale did not.  
  
Derek disappeared back out of the window with a snarl, held in the howl of rage until he couldn’t any longer...missing the way that Stiles turned towards the window with a sleepy mumble, reaching out towards the empty space with a sleep-deadened hand.


	4. Chapter 4

  
  
Stiles woke up all at once, adrenaline and fear making his heart almost feel like it was in his throat. Dreams of ripping flesh, of the thrill of the hunt, of the mechanic’s last scream of horror as he was crushed to death all whirled in his head for a second until his brain caught up with him and he realized that he was in his own bed, in his own room.  
  
It should have come as no surprise that Lydia was a complete bed hog. They had moved away from each other as they slept, Lydia snug in a cocoon of both the topsheet and the blanket, Stiles shivering on three square inches of the far corner of his mattress in the cool air of the morning.  
  
_Well, now that was just unfair._  
  
Stiles slid out of bed, scratching absently at his stomach. Lydia opened one eye then moaned. She sat up with her hair looking like a cross between an electrocuted hedgehog and a late-night extra in a cheap-ass horror flick. Stiles didn’t think he’d be mentioning this to her, however.  
  
His dad didn’t raise any idiots.  
  
He did go ahead and snap a few pictures on his camera though. But that was just between him and Facebook.  
  
By the time he got done in the bathroom, Lydia was sitting up, yawning a little. She gave him a shy sort of smile that Stiles returned rather goofily.  
  
“Stiles! You and your friend going to eat today? It’s already almost eleven!”  
  
Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Your dad seems pretty cool for the sheriff. You have a lot of girls sleep over?” She seemed completely unselfconscious as she bent over in her bag, pulling out a different pair of panties.  
  
_Ho jeez. Lydia Martin’s panties. Scott was_ never _gonna even believe this._  
  
“Uh. No. You would be the first.” This was the weirdest sense of deja vu ever.  
  
“Nice. Can I borrow some clothes? And your shower?”  
  
Stiles just nodded towards his chest of drawers, trying to reign in his ridiculous grin. He waited until she was safely in the bathroom before stripping down and getting dressed with lightning speed, the idea of Lydia catching a glimpse of his naked ass vaguely terrifying.  
  
He kind of felt like he should be spazzing out more over the fact that there was a naked girl in his bathroom, but ... it just wasn’t there. It was a little weird in a ‘ha-what the fuck is my life’ sort of way, but Stiles still couldn’t help comparing her to Derek in his head. When Derek had asked if this was his first morning after he’d practically swallowed his tongue.He’d practically fainted just creeping on Derek washing dishes: a completely domestic, everyday task. Even now at the thought of his muscled back, Stiles’ mouth went a little dry. He shook his head and headed downstairs, grabbing his phone and checking his texts on the way.  
  
A text from Derek:  
**I’ll be out of town for a few days. Taking Erica to track down lead. Are you ever going to tell me what you needed to tell me?**  
  
He rolled his eyes. It kind of pissed him off that they had all left him here, merrily going off on a hunt for the Kanima.... when he’d been the one that had done all the research. Stiles texted back:  
**Not much to tell. Cya when you get back. Try not to let Erica brain you with anything. You sure you trust her, right?**  
  
His dad was working on a case file at the dining room table. Stiles was used to the way he would immediately take the photos and case notes and shovel them into the file so that Stiles wouldn’t get an eyeful of confidential information. “Good ...morning.” He pulled the newspaper to him and shook it open, disappearing behind it.  
  
Stiles winced.  
  
“I hope that you don’t have any plans for your first day of break.” His dad smiled thinly over the top of the paper.  
  
Stiles thought briefly about changing his name and moving to Sarasota. “No. I don’t.”  
  
His dad’s smile turned a lot nastier. “Oh yes.... yes you do. As soon as your guest leaves.”  
  
_Fuck. A. Duck._  
  
Stiles was a master at using food as a diversion. He made himself an egg and pickle sandwich and sat down, popping right back up to get himself some tea, and bringing the whole jug back to the table.  
  
“So....”  
  
“Oh we can wait for all that. That Lydia Martin?” His dad jerked his head in the vague direction of his bedroom giving him the same intense stare from yesterday.  
  
Stiles was really lucky that red just happened to be his color. He wondered if that was something _else_ they taught in parental school: the ability to find Random Intimidating Props for Awkward Conversations. Why even have the newspaper if he wasn’t going to read it? Stiles took an exceptionally large bite of sandwich, nodding. He made a little face, wrinkling up his nose.  
  
“The same one that you’ve been gaga over since you figured out what your dick was for?”  
  
Stiles choked. “Daa-d!” _Jesus!_ He set down the sandwich, his stomach jumping around uncomfortably. His dad, being that he was a complete and utterly evil bastard, just snorted and went back behind his newspaper. Stiles continued to pick at his sandwich.  
  
Lydia came downstairs in a pair of sweats and a tshirt of Stiles’. Her wet hair was done in a braid down the center of her back.  
  
“Miss Martin. Would you like something to eat?”  
  
Stiles watched as Lydia flushed slightly, smiling at his dad. His dad practically melted in front of him. It was damn embarrassing, to tell the truth.  
  
“No, sir. I think I’ve imposed enough.”  
  
“It was no imposition!” Stiles half stood, smiling a little at her. “I was... glad. That I could help.”  
  
Lydia’s smile turned into the full mega-watt beam of happiness that usually made Stiles’ heart thump in his chest. “Thank you, Stiles. See you later?”  
  
Stiles nodded. “I’d wish you luck on your finals, but since you’re smarter than I am, I don’t really think you’ll need it.”

Her grin turned wicked, then pleased. She waved at him and his dad, hefted her bag over her shoulder and letting herself out of the house before either of the Stilinskis could rise to see her out. Stiles’ phone buzzed and he checked his messages. It was from Derek.  
**What? I trust her. She’s harmless.**  
  
Stiles snorted and texted back.  
**Ha. Tell that to my face. She’s got a mean left. Especially when holding car parts!**  
  
“Well.”  
  
Stiles took a drink of his tea.  
  
“So, anything you want to tell me?”  
  
Stiles froze for a second, mind stuttering. Really? Where would he even _begin_?  
  
“I take it from your deer-in-the-headlights look that you need a little help getting started.” Stiles’ dad said as he set down the newspaper. “Let’s start with Derek Hale.”  
  
“Oh, shit.”  
  
“Oh shit, indeed..., oh fruit of my loins.” The sheriff waited politely, giving Stiles a few minutes to compose his thoughts. “Hmm. Nothing?Lucky for you that I have a few additional conversation starters. Laura Hale. How about that little matter of the dead video store clerk? No? The dead janitor at your school? None of this ringing a bell?”  
  
Stiles felt all the blood in his face drain away. He felt faint as he stared at his dad. “Uh..”  
  
“Uh! _Excellent_ rejoinder. So, being that I am actually trained in law enforcement... which judging by your gobsmacked expression you weren’t actually aware of... I went ahead and tried to think what those things had in common. Actually, I will admit that it took me a little bit for my brain to head this way. We wouldn’t want to forget the hospital and your most recent adventure at the garage. You know what all these crazy incidents have in common, Stiles?”  
  
Stiles blinked, adrenaline flooding his system. His hand tightened on his phone.  
  
“That would be you. My _son_ is the common element in all of these crimes.”  
  
Stiles blinked again, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t so much the sarcasm. Stiles had practically embraced sarcasm as a second language. But the look on his dad’s face, the look that showed how far beyond disappointment he was, the _cop_ look made him want to start talking.  
  
His dad smiled nastily again and opened the folder. “So... I thought that perhaps I could... oh, I don’t know... put together some sort of whadyacallit? What do those cop-type people do again? Investi _ga_ tion. I began with taking a quick gander at your mileage. Unless you want to tell me that you’ve been driving to Scott’s house and back twelve times extra a day... or perhaps you’ve been doing donuts around the school? Nope? Okay then. Well, the extra mileage happens to _miraculously_ coincide with the mileage to... yep! Derek Hale’s house. Waaaay out there in the woods. Several times a week even. Isn’t that interesting? Then there’s the even more... fascinating tidbits of your browser history.”  
  
_Shit. Shit Shit._ There was no way that this was going to end well. Either he told his dad, and has several pissed off werewolves come after them _both_ for fucking up the secrecy. Disloyalty was frowned upon... to put it lightly. Or... he doesn’t tell his dad...  
  
“Werewolves. Alpha pack dynamics. Wolvesbane. The moon’s effect on a group psychosis. Okay, that actually sounds interesting. Huh. Oh, lookee here. The Hale murders. Derek Hale’s case file, and don’t think we’re not going to have a discussion about using my password to break into confidential information, young man. Something called a ka-min-a? Building code laws? For houses destroyed by fire? A truly frightening amount of porn.” Stiles’ dad paused for a second, flipped through another two pieces of paper. “A... _lot_ of.... jesus, kid. You know that thing does chafe right?”  
  
Stiles briefly considered the merits of drowning himself in the tea.  
  
“And recently, the school. Your phone, found in the bottom of the pool. In-ter-rest-ing. Looks like your phone is in your hand. Huhn. Vandalism. Then you disappear all night?” Stiles dad paused, staring at his son. His voice just sounded tired when he spoke again. “So. A profile. An older man, who has been involved with the law. One who my son seems to be really interested in, enough that he goes to his house constantly. One who seems to be involved in one fuckload of crazy coincidences... one who _has gotten my son_ involved in...” he trailed off. Seconds ticked by on the kitchen clock. Stiles was too afraid to speak. He was afraid not to speak. What the fuck is going _on_ , Stiles?” His dad’s voice cracked.  
  
Stiles honestly he didn’t know what he was going to say, but hearing that sick-with-worry, almost broken sound ripping out of his dad’s throat _hurt._ He felt his eyes burn with the sting of tears and opened his mouth.  
  
“Dad--”  
  
“Mr. Stilinski?”  
  
Both of their heads whipped towards Scott, who stood in the doorway of the kitchen. They were long beyond the point where Scott needed permission to come inside, but the interruption was not welcome. The tension in the room was so thick Stiles thought he was choking on it.  
  
“Uh. Mr. Stilinski. I couldn’t help but overhear. I know that this is not a good time. But Stiles isn’t up to anything illegal. Or wrong. Well, I’m not exactly sure what’s up with him and Der-- er. But what you’re thinking isn’t... it isn’t a bad thing.”  
  
Stiles blinked really hard, stunned that Scott had managed to climb out of his self-inflicted angst to notice... or to care. Then, of course he immediately felt bad for thinking such shitty things about his friend. He dimly realized that his head was pounding from the stress and took a sip of his tea. It tasted like ashes in his mouth.  
  
“Okay so... Mr. Stilinski? This is why Stiles has been acting so crazy.”  
  
Stiles had time for a split-second of foreboding, then Scott wolfed out in front of his father. Stiles fumbled the tea, catching it just in time to keep it from spilling across the table. His dad sprung up, reaching for a gun that wasn’t there, putting himself in between Stiles and Scott. Scott kept back, raised both hands to show he was harmless. He morphed back to a human kid, then just let his eyes go that crazy yellow orange color.  
  
Stiles recalled rather fondly the first time he’d seen a werewolf, reached up to grab his dad’s arm. He patted it and sighed. “I _know_ dad. Kind of pants-shitter, right? Welcome to my life.”  
  
***  
  
It took Scott changing back and forth three more times, six shots of the whiskey, and three hours of semi-hysterical shouting for his dad to kind of go numb, staring off into space with the occasional twitch. Scott even did a few tricks, showing off some of his abilities. They didn’t tell him everything, of course. Neither of the boys were particularly stupid. Scott eventually left to go do his nightly pining on the top of Allison’s roof thing, _not that that was creepy at all_ and Stiles was left on the couch besides his dad, staring at a muted episode of Mythbusters. His dad was going to town on some Doritos like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Stiles was so numb that he didn’t even bitch about it.  
  
“So!”  
  
Stiles groaned, staring at his dad warily. His head was pounding and he got up to get some aspirin, swallowing them down dry.  
  
“You were attacked by a .. a what now?”  
  
“It’s called a Kanima. Think of a giant lizard looking thing. I haven’t been able to find much about it. The general consensus is that it’s some kind of were-jaguar, but that is definitely not what I saw. Dad. If Derek hadn’t been there... I would have ended up clawed up. Or like that mechanic.”  
  
His dad threw back the rest of his drink.  
  
“I did find a guy near Portland that is some kind of expert, but he hasn’t emailed me back yet.”  
  
“So you’re some kind of ... researcher? Stiles. I... you know that I’ll love you no.. no matter what but I have to ask. Do you turn furry once a month?”  
  
“No! Dad, come on. If Scott hadn’t been here and I was all... So! Dad. Dad.. daddy-o, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t mind that I figured out what killed Laura Hale for you. It was a grrrr! Yep dingdingdig! A werewolf! Lookout Lon Chaney! Yes. A werewolf. Oh no, there’s not one... there’s actually like five of them around.... you would have put me in the psycho ward so fast my head would have spun.” Speaking of a werewolf. Stiles tried to check his phone messages without his dad being too aware of what he was doing.  
  
Still nothing from Derek.  
**Derek? Hello?**  
  
“Hmm. So.. what’s with this Hale guy?” His dad leaned back from where he had been obviously looking at Stiles’ phone.  
  
“You know that I’ve got that conference in a few days. Maybe with all of this I should cancel...”  
  
Stiles flushed. “ No! Dad. It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t do that.” He flailed his hand around. “All this has been happening, will be happening whether or not you’re here.”  
  
His dad just furrowed his eyebrows, and Stiles took a deep breath. “Derek. Uh. He is... confusing. Very confusing.” Stiles saw his dad’s bloodshot gaze focus on him, that same intense stare from before making him feel both very uncomfortable and very lucky that he was so concerned.  
  
“That was a pretty rough blow, losing his sister like that. They were pretty tight from what I remember. He... was a good kid. the Hales kept to themselves. Weren’t any trouble... that’s why it was such a shock when they were all gone.”

“He says I smell good,” Stiles blurted, then wanted to smack himself.  
  
“Hunhh. Did he say you smell _legal_?”  
  
Stiles just rolled his eyes. He held up a finger. first- I’m seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. That’s like... nothing. And let’s really focus on the _real_ fact here: we live in a society that says it’s legal to have sex before you drink alcohol? What the hell is that about? Not that I’ve ever. uh. done either of those things. Obviously.” Stiles coughed, blushing. Well at least one of them was true. “And the second thing: If anything Derek thinks of me as kind of a really annoying kid. Who is good with a computer.” Yeah and that sucked. Stiles shoulders slumped. He hoped that his dad didn’t notice how dejected his voice sounded. They were quiet for awhile. By mutual consent they switched the television to Top Chef, then stared in a stupor for awhile.  
  
“So... are orcs real? Shit. Vampires? Elves? Do you know any fairies?”  
  
Stiles snorted. “I just said I was confused, dad. Let’s not start with the name-calling. ”  
  
His dad’s eyebrows curled in confusion for a second, then he snorted with laughter, which set Stiles off. Stiles’ dad swatted him with a pillow and Stiles collapsed in helpless giggles, overtired and over emotional from everything that had happened since waking up with Lydia.  
  
It had been a long time since their mingled laughter filled a room Later, when Stiles fell asleep on the couch, his dad just kissed him on the forehead, pulling the ratty blanket over his son’s exhausted form. His dad hadn’t missed the exhaustion, or the not-eating, or the lassitude. He sighed and stood up a little unsteadily, flicking off the television and the light. He was pretty sure that he still had Hale’s cell number from his booking. Maybe it was time to give him a call. He put away the Doritos and shook his head.  
  
“Werewolves. In Beacon Hills. What the fuck.”  
  
**  
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com  
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com  
Re: Research Project  
I found the topic of your research project fascinating. I would be interested in meeting with you in person to discuss, as it’s not really the type of conversation I would be comfortable putting in an email. Please respond with date and time of expected visit, and I will make myself available to you.  
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.  
  
***  
Stiles sat in his jeep, biting his lip. It had been two days since his dad had been clued into the preternatural goings on of Beacon Hills. He looked down at the bag in his hand, then looked away from it as though it would bite him. Stiles knew that his dad was working a double tonight. If he hadn’t been, Stiles would have just jerked off and called it a day.  
  
But.  
  
He was feeling weird again, that kind of skin-too-small feeling that he tended to associate with Derek. Which was weird. Derek still hadn’t bothered to answer his text. Stiles knew that he’d be back in time for the full moon though. That was only a few days away. But the fact remained that: 1) He’d spent the night with Lydia Martin and hadn’t even spazzed out once. 2) Even _looking_ at Derek’s name in his phone caused his body to tighten. So yeah. Logic says...?

He was a hell of a lot more than curious. Hence the trip three towns over.  
  
Surely no one would know him, or his car, or that he was the sheriff’s kid. _Some_ things had to be sacred, after all. Stiles licked his lips and shifted in his seat, grabbing the bag and heading inside. He itched the back of his neck as he unlocked the front door, peering right and left to make sure no one saw him, then slipped inside, holding the bag with a white-knuckled grip that caused the brown bag to crinkle.  
  
He thundered up the stairs, tossed the bag on his bed and went to take a shower. He had been in the middle of a game of Mass Effect with Scott when it had hit him: maybe he needed to experiment a little, play around to see if he was really into the whole ass deflowering thing. He’d almost blurted it out, but Scott had given him a weird look before he could and shifted slightly away from him.  
  
Stiles had recalled Derek’s words about scent and had blushed hard enough to feel dizzy. Scott had been so distant lately with the end of school, the fact he was working forty hours a week at the vet’s, wrapped up with Allison and his pack training that Stiles hadn’t wanted to make anything more strained. It had been nice to just have some bro time. Not that he didn’t feel he could discuss his (maybe) gay crisis with his best friend.... but. Just not now.  
  
Scott hadn’t known were Derek and Erica had been either. The others had been scarce too, which quite frankly was a little weird. It wasn’t normal for everything to be so quiet. But there had been no sign of the Kanima. Hell, even the Argents were quiet since Allison and her crazy-ass family had gone on vacation. Some kind of survival camp. What the hell.  
  
Stiles huffed out a breath and turned off his shower, stepping out and wiping a streak in the steam from the mirror. He didn’t bother with a towel. He still looked tired. Which was weird because he slept all the damn time. He must have some sort of stomach thing, because he hadn’t really felt like eating much of anything lately. Stiles started to climb on his bed, then got up and decided to lock his door and pull his blinds. He felt weird about checking in with his dad before he went off on his gay sexscapades, but the promise to always call when he got home was a hard habit to break. He hadn’t wanted to lie to his dad, but telling him that he was off to go buy a dildo was probably pushing the truth thing. Stiles made a face as he left a message, then set his phone on his night table.  
  
Stiles’ dick twitched when he pulled out the small container of [Boy Butter](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51019AEPKPL._SL500_AA300_PIbundle-2,TopRight,0,0_AA300_SH20_.jpg), and had the horrifying thought: what if that huge-ass stockpile had belonged to someone else and not Derek? No. Derek’s whole house had burnt down. There wasn’t anything in that bathroom that he didn’t need. If it was there, then it was because Derek had put it there. Stiles shivered when he imagined Derek using it and felt his mouth dry up, his breathing change a little. He took off the plastic and opened the lid, grinning a little at the fact that it looked just like a tub of margarine. Yeah and that hand gripping the churn thingy wasn’t suggestive at all. Stiles shook his head, his grin widening. Pure marketing genius. He sniffed it, then stuck the tip of his finger in to rub it against his thumb. Oh.. yeah. Slick. It felt a lot lighter than the lotion he usually used. Cautiously he licked at it, pleased that it didn’t actually _taste_ like butter. That would just be too fucking weird.  
  
Stiles bit his lip as he opened the plastic on the little Vibe-O-Matic. It was small. Well, it wasn’t _small_ but it didn’t look like that other silver looking monstrosity either. _That_ thing wasn’t coming near his ass, thank you very much. He’d almost collapsed in nervous laughter when he had seen that the ginormous thing had been called the Silver Bullet, and had scurried away. It hadn’t helped that the sales lady looked to be about seventy years old, and amused as hell at his embarrassment. Stiles had tried to be all blasé about being in the porn shop, while his eyes were probably bugging out and dick hard in his jeans. He looked at the small vibrator and frowned. It was shaped kind of weird, and when he turned it on he jerked at the muted buzzing that filled his room. Oh. So _that’s_ what the package meant about prostate massage.  
  
So okay. True or false. He was attracted to Derek Hale.  
  
True. Definitely, definitely true. Stiles lay back on his bed, idly stroking down his stomach, over his abs. He bit his lip and tried thinking of the other guys he knew to see if his body reacted the same way. Jackson- no. Hell no. The douche factor took away from any possible boner-inducing admiration of his body. Danny? Not.. entirely unattractive. At all. Huh. Scott? Stiles wrinkled his nose, jerking his hand away from his dick. Ewww. No. Stiles ran through a few other guys that he knew, and some girls, but finally gave it up when for no reason at all Stiles remembered what it felt like to have Derek pin him against the tree in the woods, his whole body keeping Stiles’ from moving.  
  
Stiles leaned up and dipped his fingers back into the lube, running them up and down his shaft, then began tugging, grunting a little as pleasure caused his whole body to tense. He reached up to thumb at his nipple, gasping a little bit in the quiet of his room. Stiles closed his fist around him, rubbing the thumb over the head of his cock, his other hand rubbing over his skin, his balls, tugging at his pubic hair. He imagined Derek’s face as he woke up with him, the eyes just a little sleepy, his face in that too-careful frozen mask that he did when he was super angry. He imagined if he had just leaned a little closer...  
  
“Shiiit.” His whole body felt like it was on edge, and he hadn’t really even done anything.  
  
Stiles moved so that he was braced against the headboard, giving his cock one final tugging twist and dipped back into the lube. He spread his legs and reached down, biting his lip a little, his head rolling back onto the headboard so that he could look up at his ceiling.  
  
He spread some of the lube around his hole then pushed in the tip of one finger. He could feel himself tighten around the little intrusion, and pushed a little further, gasping again. He moved it, wincing a little, then pulled out and slicked it again. His finger went in easier this time, and felt less... okay no. It still felt weird.  
  
He imagined in his head what Derek would be like. Would he be slow? Angry? Would it hurt? Stiles gave himself another finger. The angle was a little weird as he moved his fingers, in and out, using his other hand to sort of awkwardly hold his cheeks open. Maybe it would be easier if he was on his hands and knees? His second finger pushed against the rim and he cried out this time. That... definitely didn’t hurt. His dick gave twitch, like it was agreeing, and Stiles could feel a little bit of precome on his abdomen.  
  
He took out his fingers and used them on his cock, which was red and hard and _mmm That felt..._ “Yeah.” Stiles shifted again and almost knocked the lube off the bed in his haste to get to the toy. He leaned over, using a lot of lube on it, globbed some more on his hole as he turned over, bracing one hand against the headboard and reaching back with the toy, his harsh breaths loud in his room. He was too tense and it didn’t go in easily. The angle was too... “Damnit!” Stiles had to stop again and shifted so that he was on his side, facing his door with his back to the window. He moved his leg up and out of the way, and reached back again, trying to relax. He slid it in slowly, his breath absolutely stopping as the bumps on the vibe stretched him, allowing him to tighten back over it.  
  
The first inch hurt a little. Well, not hurt, but was too tight. It made him feel like he was stretching just this side of too much. He idly noticed his dick had softened a little bit at the new sensation and he tried tightening his fist a little. He took another deep breath and worked it inside, slowly. There was pressure, then ... a slide and his whole body jerked again, nerves singing.  
  
“Oh.. _Oh_...”  
  
Stiles was covered in sweat, but thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head as he moved it in and out. It was only about three inches long, but it felt a lot bigger. Stiles had the thought _Derek would be thicker, longer, would split you open when he fucks you_ and jerked again, moaning low in his throat. His slippery finger hit the switch and Stiles _arched_ as his spine bowed, his eyes wide open and blind as he felt his whole body tighten at the vibrations of the toy. It was too much.... _god_! Stiles thought he was going to have a seizure or something so he turned it off with another cry. His dick lept up, and Stiles started jerking his fist, trying to fuck himself with the toy and fuck into his hand, but he couldn’t concentrate enough to move right, overwhelmed with what his body was feeling.  
  
Stiles turned over on his back, his legs splayed wide as the vibe jostled inside of him, slipping out as he turned. Derek wouldn’t let it be awkward. He’d hold him down and just fuck into him, staring down, leaning down to rub his face on him again. Would Derek like to kiss? Stiles’ whole body was on the knife’s-edge of coming apart and he wanted it, was greedy for it, but he couldn’t quite... It was _there_ just ... almost and... “Der--ek!” Stiles _whined,_ curling his toes into the sheets as he thrust up into his tight fist.  
  
He thought heard a sound at the window.  
  
Stiles jerked his gaze up, but was too close to stop. Derek had frozen in the middle of climbing inside of his room, his hand mangling the drapes that he’d pulled aside so that he could enter. Derek’s eyes were a bright, clear blue as he stared down at him.  
  
“ _Stiles._ ” Derek’s eyes gleamed red in the faint light of the room.  
  
Stiles’ mouth opened with a wail as he starbursts claimed his vision, his dick spurting, come landing on his chin. The second spurt landed on his chest and he was horrified. Confused if what he saw was real but coming... _fuck_... couldn’t stop moving his hand, finishing himself off until he was just lying there, wrecked. Had he... dreamed..? Had Derek just...?  
  
He blinked his eyes open, looking at the window. “Oh... no. Oh please no.” No was right. No way did he imagine that Derek had seen him, had spoken to him. The curtains that he’d pulled shut were wide open, the window letting in the cool breeze of the night. Stiles heard the low growl of the Camaro’s engine, then the squeal of tires.  
  
Stiles panicked.  
  
His dad. Was going to be out of town for at least a week. He could go. He had to go, to leave, before Derek came back.

Stiles sat up, panting now, hyperventilating as shame made the air in his lungs disappear. He sucked in a breath on a sob, humiliated and disgusted with himself, then he was packing, shoving clothes in his backpack. Out. He had to get out of here. _Hurry. Have to hurry._ Derek was going to kill him. He’d probably been so sickened that he actually ran off... disgusted. Angry. He used his towel from earlier to swipe at the come and lube on his chest and ass, skin crawling. Stiles dressed quickly, throwing on whatever he found in his dresser.  
  
Stiles jerked the plug to his Mac out of the wall and shoved it and his computer in the backpack along with his wallet. His bed was messed up, the lube and the toy sitting innocently on the mattress. Stiles made a high-pitched, almost wounded sound and shoved the toy and the lube in the brown sack, frantically looking around for somewhere to stash it, deciding that he should just take it with him to throw it away.  
  
He had to get out of here. He grabbed his phone, on autopilot, grabbed his backpack and ran down the stairs. Scott? No. Scott was pack. Scott wasn’t safe; he’d do whatever Derek wanted him to do. He had to go somewhere ... anywhere else. Just had to... go.  
  
Somewhere safe.  
  
Somewhere that wasn’t Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't worry. I won't leave you hanging.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of gore and general ickness. Quite a bit of h/c and angst too. 
> 
> Warning, posted unbeta'd, and way past my bedtime, so god knows if it's even coherent. 
> 
> Oh! This chapter is also longer than the others, because I couldn't figure out a good way to break it up. Next update will probably be late Saturday or early Sunday. :)

Chapter 5  
  
  
Stiles ran out of gas somewhere near Eugene. He had almost lost it once when he saw the dark signs for Wolfy Creek Park, but held it in by biting his lip until he tasted blood. Stiles coasted onto the side of the road and frowned up at the dark sky. He finally let himself break down, burying his face in his hoodie as he cried. He felt like a complete and utter reject, but he’d managed to hold it inside for for the three and a half hours that he’d been driving, and was kind of proud of himself for not wrecking the damn jeep.  
  
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Derek, and knew, _knew_ that wherever Derek was right now, he was either disgusted or laughing. Or homicidally pissed off. Or some weird Alpha version of all three. Of course he would be. He already couldn’t stand Stiles. He’d already had to deal with him: his mouth and his spazz and his sarcasm, and let’s face it. Derek Hale really wasn’t the kind of guy to take kindly to some dumb kid jerking off over him.  
  
Stiles had seen how the other players on the team treated Danny when he wasn’t looking. Or when Jackson wasn’t watching out for him. It completely helped that the both of them were built like a brick shithouse and Stiles... well. He was pretty good at math. No one called Danny names to his face, but behind his back... people were pretty shitty. Maybe that’s why he’d kept his “curiosity” to himself, instead of admitting what he wanted.  
  
Or who.  
  
Derek was obviously not into guys. All Stiles needed to check that little fact was to look at how he let Erica... let Erica do whatever she wanted. Hell, he’d _wanted_ her so badly that he’d turned her. _She_ was part of the pack.  
  
And Stiles? Stiles was not.  
  
Stiles wiped his nose with the back of his hand, moaning a little at the remembered embarrassment. Of all people that could have gotten an eyeful... did it have to be _Derek_? Stiles felt sick as his mind’s eye pictured exactly what Derek must have seen. Him, with his fucking legs spread wide--- no. He couldn’t do this.  
  
Stiles slammed his hands on the steering wheel. He scrubbed his face then dug in his backpack for his wallet, huffing a little bit as he got his breathing back under control. Of course now, he felt completely sick to his stomach, and his eyes were swollen. Fucking awesome.  
  
Stiles knew that he couldn’t stay away for forever. He wasn’t stupid, and he refused to act like he was some dumb heroine on an Mtv after-school special. But ... some distance was good. For right now. Stiles knew he had only about a hundred bucks on him anyway, so it wasn’t like he could just disappear. Stiles sighed and hitched his red hoodie tighter around him. There had to be a gas station somewhere. He got his gas can out of the back and grabbed his phone, locking his jeep and heading towards the small town. He frowned. Shit. he should have brought his charger. Great. He _was_ going to end up like some statistic... lost in the woods with no phone battery...  
  
As if to punctuate the thought, Stiles heard a coyote howl, echoing through the quiet night.  
  
“Fuck my life. Seriously.”  
  
As he walked, he could see that the moon was almost full. Two days from now. Well, maybe all the pack shit would make Derek forget about him. Stiles snorted. _Yeah, right._ He could see lights in the distance, and was grateful. He was pretty tired. His vision was at times blurry and so clear that he had to blink a couple of times, wondering if he’d just walked through a foggy patch and not realized it.  
  
It wasn’t very hard to find a gas station. The walk back was exhausting, and by the time he got there he seriously thought about just sleeping in his jeep. Stiles opened up his laptop to check for hotels in the area. When he came across the email from the Professor, the idea had made him forget a little of his misery. _That’s it!_ He could be useful. Use _this_ as his excuse for leaving. Stiles checked the reviews on a hotel near the the college, but stopped when he saw ‘cheap’ and ‘out of the way.’ That was good enough. He shut the laptop.   
  
The place was definitely out of the way. He’d had to use the GPS on his phone to get there, and the result was an old-fashioned motel. It looked a little worn, but perfectly fine. Stiles smiled, the action feeling weird on his face. Less Norman Bates, and more Cozy Cone. Instead of a string of rooms all connected to each other, the small motel took advantage of the woodsy clientele that came this way to hike in Tilamook or Cape Lookout. It was set almost in the woods, with little courtyards facing the line of trees. The night clerk barely blinked as Stiles paid for three nights. He didn’t even ask for a license, giving him a smirk and a once-over. Stiles had to roll his eyes. He wasn’t sure what the guy was thinking, but he was pretty sure that it involved meeting someone for wild monkey sex. When Stiles asked for one of the cabins that was the furthest away, the smirk just got sharper. That left him 20 bucks for food. Well, he wasn’t all that hungry anyway. He made his way to his cabin on auto-pilot.  
  
The room was small, but looked amazing to his exhausted eyes. The bed was kind of on the small side. The bathroom was nice, and obviously newly redone with an oversized bathtub. Stiles washed his face, not meeting his eyes in the mirror. He made himself take a quick shower, more to wash the dried and flaky come off himself before he slept.  
  
The bed felt perfect as he stretched out. The mattress was ridiculously fluffy, and Stiles felt surrounded by awesome as he punched the pillow into shape. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling his chest and his throat tighten up again as his mind wandered over to a few hours ago. It was already almost daylight and he craved sleep. “No... not gonna do this again. It’s stupid.” It was. Stupid and useless.  
  
It took awhile for him to fall asleep.

  
  
***  
When Stiles woke up he felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He fumbled for his phone and texted his dad. Stiles  
was too ashamed to admit how much he wanted to hear his voice, but usually at those type of conference things he couldn’t talk anyway, so it was easy to talk himself out of it. He found a couple of Advil in the bottom of his backpack and dry-swallowed them, gagging a little. Before he could chicken out, Stiles emailed the professor and told him that he was in town, but had to leave the day after tomorrow. He shivered, then got up to turn off the air-conditioning. His skin was cold and clammy. The bug he’d been fighting for the past week or so had come up on him with a vengeance.  
  
His phone chirped and he frowned down at a message from Lydia.  
**so.. what’s up? Want to meet for coffee?”**  
  
He texted back:  
**No. Can’t, sorry. I had to go out of town for a few days. Maybe when I get back?**  
  
Stiles saw that he had two missed texts and cringed. The text from Derek made him freeze.  
**We need to talk.**  
  
_No.nono the fuck no we do_ not. _Need to talk._ Stiles deleted it, rather savagely. He ignored that message and saw one from earlier that morning from Scott.  
**Hey! Hope everything worked out with your dad. I trust him, man. I’m going to tell Derek what I did. I don’t feel right lying to him about it.**  
  
Stiles’ eyes bugged.  
**ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY???**  
  
He sucked his teeth and crazily, found himself laughing. Jesus. _Jesus_ Scott was going to fucking get him killed. He’d known it since the first time his best friend thrown Stiles into a wall. Derek was going to know, and ....  
  
Fuck it. Stiles knew that he should get up, should find something productive to do, but he was too tired. He just wanted to sleep. Leaving his Mac plugged in so that he’d hear his email notification, Stiles rolled over and fell back asleep, almost at once.  
  
When he woke up the second time, he had four missed texts and an email from Professor Levitt.  
  
To: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com  
From: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com  
Re: Re: Research Project  
  
How fortuitous! I look forward to meeting with you. There is a small campus coffee shop that would be quite convenient for me, as i have a break between classes. I’m afraid that I am busy in the afternoon. Are you by chance free at 10:00 am? The coffee shop is called “The Beanie”, on Ulysses and Hawthorne.  
Thomas. Levitt, Professor of Biology and Endangered Species, .M.S. PhD.  
  
Stiles groaned, his mouth like cotton. He glanced at the clock on his computer and was shocked to see that it was almost 6:30 in the evening. Shit. It was already 6:30! How fucking long had he slept? He staggered to the bathroom and cupped some water into his hand, drinking gratefully. He had to pee and winced when he went. His bladder felt swollen and sore, like he’d been kicked. His eyes also looked like he had been punched, with big circles under his eyes. Stiles drank some more water and walked back to his bed, emailing the professor back.  
  
To: Thomas.Levitt@orr.com  
From: stiles_the_still@hotmail.com  
Re: Re: Re: Research Project  
  
Professor Levitt.,  
Thanks! I appreciate that. I will see you then.  
  
Stiles Stilinski  
  
He shut the computer, making a mental note to google directions later.  
  
The first message was from Lydia:  
**Look forward to it. :) See you then.**  
  
The second was from Scott:  
**wtf. Derek is looking for you. Where RU?**  
  
The other two were from Derek.  
**Stiles.**  
  
**Ignoring me is a mistake. Call me.**  
  
“Yeah, well tough shit.” His voice was croaky and tired, came out sounding whiny and petulant. “You can fuck right off. Nooo thanks. Not going there.” Stiles whispered, “I can’t.” and went to go take a shower. He was covered in a clammy sweat and felt disgusting. Maybe he’d feel better with a shower. And he needed some damn DayQuil or something. He _hated_ being sick. He fell back into bed with a groan.  
  
***  
‘Mr. Stilinski?”  
  
The voice was smooth and pleasant, with a small lisp on the ‘s’ in his name. He was wearing jeans, loafers, and an honest-to-God tweed jacket. Professor Levitt had to be at least in his late 60’s, with a balding head and large, faintly watery eyes.  
  
Stiles smiled weakly. His stomach was jumping around like that time he and Scott had a race to see who could eat all the Halloween candy the quickest. Stiles had won in six minutes, twenty-three seconds. “Yes. Hello.” Stiles reached up to shake the older man’s hand, but was surprised when instead of the heavy handshake that the pleasant smile implied, the older man stepped back rather abruptly with a flickering look on his face.  
  
“Ah, we can sit right here. Do you want anything to drink?”  
  
Stiles was a little weirded out. The Professor’s smile was overbright, and his voice was weirdly loud, like a phone that was on the wrong volume setting. he winced, and the professor’s gaze sharpened.  
  
“No. Thanks.” Stiles smiled wanly. “I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind, sir. You indicated before that you know what the Kanima is. What can you tell me?” His throat still hurt. His ears felt weird; he could hear clearly then it felt like they were packed in cotton.  
  
The professor leaned forward, his nostrils flaring just slightly and all at once Stiles understood exactly who it was that he was speaking to. As if agreeing, the professor’s eyes flicked once, pupils cold and reptilian, the retinas the sick yellow Stiles still saw in his nightmares. His own eyes widened, heartbeat tripping over itself.  
  
“I can tell you quite a lot.” The older man smirked. Stiles’ feeling of _wrongness_ made him shift back in his seat, uncomfortable now.  
  
“Okay.. the toxin. What’s that all about? Does the kanima have a pack? What makes...”  
  
The professor held up his hand.  
  
“The Kanima are not intrinsically pack creatures. They tend to pair up rather than look for a group.”  
  
“How do they chose?”  
  
“Hm. Depends. We are tied to the moon, but each kanima has its own... power. They are able to shift whenever they need to. Whenever they feel threatened, or feel that their mate has been threatened.”  
  
“Mate?”  
  
The waitress gave Stiles a very strange look, then huffed, rolling her eyes when they waved her off, muttering under her breath about assholes who just took up space meant for customers.  
  
“Not always a mate for ... procreation. Mates can be companions, friends. In fact, frequently are.”  
  
“How do they.. uh. make other Kanimas?”  
  
“They generally do not. Freshly turned bulls are kept away from humans until they are more in control. Occasionally though, mistakes happen. To answer your question, we turn our mates by a marking them at the cervical vertebrae.” He paused. “The top of the spine. The toxin... excuse my rudeness, but are you quite well?”  
  
Stiles felt black spots take over his vision. He heard his voice as though through a long tunnel. “With intent? Derek said Alpha wolves have to have intent to turn...”  
  
The effect of his words was like a slap to the face. The brief concern disappeared off of his face. The older man jumped up, practically _reeking_ of fear. The bitter smell was like a dark flavor on his tongue. Stiles felt bile climb into his throat.  
  
“Alphas? You’re from Beacon _Hills_? Derek _Hale’s_ pack?” Levitt’s voice was a furious, terrified whisper. He actually looked around as though he expected Derek to jump out of a frappachino. “Oh dear God.” The professor threw some money on the table and turned, obviously searching for someone. “You must tell him that I meant no harm. No insult.”  
  
Stiles was feeling lightheaded. He was having trouble following all of the conversation. Panic was bleeding through his brain. _My neck oh god no the neck through the neck Jesus fucking Christ no._ What Levitt was saying wasn’t making sense.  
  
“I knew you smelled like wolf. I...” The professor reached out his hand, and Stiles saw a petite woman clutch at his fingers, obviously picking up on his fear. She turned huge, terrified doe eyes to Stiles who blinked the stinging sweat out of his own eyes, desperately trying to focus. “Please. _Please_ , I never would have asked you to come here if I...”  
  
“Wait,” Stiles wasn’t sure if he spoke or not. The professor and his lady _mate. that’s his mate, he came here with his mate_ his mind helpfully babbled, left quickly, leaving Stiles alone in the coffee shop, the patrons looking at him like he was dangerous. Or deranged. Stiles felt both.  
  
“Uh. Sorry.” Stiles stood, his knees shaky. He wasn’t sure if it was shock, or if it was the fact _some fucking monster had turned him into Godzilla._ He wanted to go back to his motel room. Getting behind the wheel of his jeep was an exercise in patience. Stiles made himself focus. He made himself shift, then drive. He kept himself from panicking by concentrating on tiny, small tasks. The motel wasn’t far, but to Stiles it felt like years before he made it there. He vomited once, outside of his jeep. That scared him more than anything, because it was the deep black ichor that Derek had had when poisoned.  
  
His heartbeat was like some small, frightened thing, trapped in his throat. He knew that he was scared. God, was he scared. He had the crazy thought that if he could just get inside... he’d be okay.  
  
Stiles got up and staggered to unlock the door, tripping and barking his cheekbone on the doorjam before falling down onto his hands and knees. He couldn’t breathe. The spots in front of his eyes were now huge floating dots, dots that turned into claws and teeth that came for him. His whole body was convulsing, muscles seizing up as he writhed on the carpet. It brushed against skin that felt too sensitive; like the buzz of an electric shock right beneath the surface. Stiles was seeing things, was scared that what he thought he saw wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.  
  
His brain just gave up. Maybe it was protecting him. Maybe he was just unlucky. When Stiles woke up again, it was almost full dark. He knew at once that the moon had not yet risen.  
  
Stiles gagged, forcing himself to the bathroom where he got sick again, clutching the toilet, his sweaty hands sliding right down the porcelain bowl and onto the floor. He thought of his dad, about how much he worried about him, about how he’d been shocked and not-shocked at learning about the wolves in sheep’s clothing that ran amok in his small town. He thought of Scott, of Lydia and fear for her spiked more adrenaline through his system, which rebelled as weak bile spewed from his throat. He lay shaking, panting on the floor, hoping that she wasn’t going through this but knowing that of course she had to be.  
  
Stiles thought of Derek, and even as sick as he was he wanted to apologize, to show his throat so that Derek would let him in; would let him belong with the rest.  
  
“Derek....”  
  
Everything in Stiles desperately needed Derek, wanted him to keep Stiles safe, to make this stop.  
  
“Stiles? What the fuck?”  
  
And Stiles laughed at the way his mind conjured Derek up, like he was actually in the bathroom with him. His voice almost sounded real. Stiles could almost feel that burning gaze on him, but knew he was alone, right? He could only smell himself, sick and broken. Dying.  
  
“Dead. Gonna... sick” And he was. The black stuff this time, which burned his throat. It made him cry out as he retched, only he could only whimper.  
  
Derek’s growl made him cringe. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are. _Stiles!_ ”  
  
The beeps of the dead battery were loud in his ears. It made him flinch away from his phone. His body convulsed again and his phone landed with a wet _splat_ in the muck. Stiles hadn’t realized that he had even called Derek. He’d thought Derek was here with him, and for a second the crushing realization that no, he really was all alone, that he was going to die like this with no one to help him, no one to care _hurt_. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not. If he was really talking or if he was imagining it. He whispered it anyway. Or thought he did.  
  
“...I’m sorry..”  
  
Two more beeps, and his phone went dead.  
  
Stiles collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

  
  
***  
The problem, Derek reflected, with being an Alpha, was that everyone seemed to expect that he always knew what the fuck he was doing. Even when he didn’t. As a Beta, he could fuck up. Laura was his leader, his pack, his friend. They’d been together almost since birth. Laura had been only one year older, but even back then she’d been focused. Driven.  
Pack was everything, Derek. Protect the pack.  
  
And everything she’d done was to do that.  
  
Derek wanted to roll his eyes. Here he was, stuck in a vehicle with the three newest members of his pack. Erica stared out the window, completely bored, stretching her gum out, over and over.  
  
Isaac had his earbuds on as low as they would go, but that was still pretty damn loud. Derek could hear every single word. He wanted to bite something. He didn’t begrudge Isaac the whole educational experience. If Isaac wanted to read, great. Reading was at least quiet. But the audiobook? Fuck. Derek was stuck hearing _exactly_ what Bella and Edward were up to. He didn’t know when dawn was going to break, but he hoped it was pretty fucking soon.  
  
Boyd was driving. Boyd, he liked. Boyd was quiet. He didn’t argue. He could handle himself in a fight. He’d been sick from some human illness that was killing off his innards, but Derek’s bite had changed all that. He accepted the gift, and was completely and utterly loyal to whatever Derek wanted him to do.  
  
Erica whined a little in the back of her throat. “Are we there yet?”  
  
Fucking _puppies_.  
  
Still, Derek could agree with her. He wanted to be back in Beacon Hills. His base. His home.  
  
His pack.  
  
Stiles.  
  
He frowned, looking down at his phone. Stiles had texted him yesterday, and Derek still hadn’t responded. He wasn’t sure what to say, to be honest. He couldn’t help the bass growl low in his throat. All three of his wolves sat up. Isaac took the earbud out of his ear and looked around wildly.  
  
Erica met his gaze in the mirror and looked away, shrinking lower in her seat.  Hours ago, when Derek had asked her with complete calm about Stiles’ text, She’d laughed. His wolf hadn’t cared for that much at all.  
  
“Figures the little bitch would tattle on me. You said to make sure he didn’t stick his nose in. I just made sure of that.”  
  
Guilt had swam sickly in his gut. True as far as it went, but imagining Stiles bruised.... Erica had just laughed when Derek had slammed her up against the wall, locking her legs around him with a feral grin. When Derek had gone for her throat she had looked up at him, completely shocked, blood fountaining from the teeth marks in her long, white throat.  
  
“Do _not_ mark him again.”  
  
He had been careful to not kill her, but had torn her throat out slowly, so that she could heal. Erica on her knees, trying to bend to show her belly and throat had filled him with a twisted little feeling of rightness. He wondered if his uncle had ever felt the same when he disciplined Derek for acting out. Of course that was before he’d gone completely and utterly batshit insane. Derek had blinked, ignoring Erica’s little whine, and had turned away.  
  
Boyd and Isaac had looked on but had waited until Derek had turned diffidently away before going to help their packmate. On the plus side, Erica hadn’t gone near him, hadn’t flirted, hadn’t even _looked_ at him with anything but respect.  
  
Being an Alpha had a bit of a learning curve. He’d known there would be a certain settling-in period. That’s what Laura had called it. Her temper had boiled over more often than not; she’d been overly aggressive and moody. So Derek knew what to expect, but... didn’t really have the first-hand knowledge of how it would end up affecting him.  
  
“So who do you think it is?” Boyd’s deep voice jarred Derek out of his thoughts.  
  
Derek shrugged with one twitch of his shoulder. In his mind’s eye he could see that... _girl_ curled up with Stiles, asleep in his bed. His wolf growled deeply, and Derek had to work to suppress the jealousy before he shifted in the middle of the fucking car. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to go to just... check... that she wasn’t in Stiles’ bed anymore. Derek fought the desire to whip out his dick and just piss in a circle around Stiles’ house. Or his bedroom. Or fuck... his _bed_.  
  
After Stiles has been taken in by the toxin, Derek had found himself staying with Stiles the whole night, watching the younger man sleep, feeling both sickened by his regard and calmed by watching; his wolf and his human side, a constant struggle for dominance. Sometimes his human side seemed very far away. Stiles had been sprawled in his bed, sliding from the toxin’s paralysis to true, real sleep within a heartbeat. He’d muttered a little in his sleep (It truly came as no surprise that Stiles couldn’t stop talking: even in sleep) and Derek had slowly allowed himself to relax, allowed himself to mark him with his scent again, rumbling a little at the way their combined scents mingled together with something that called to him. Something like _home_ and _comfort_ and _mate_.  
  
Then to have Stiles wake up with another name on his lips? Oh, he’d been furious.  
  
“It is either Jackson or Lydia. Both have unexplained incidents that I would like explained.” He would capture Jackson first, but Derek knew in his heart that he would be pleased to kill the girl.  
  
“What are we gonna do about them?” Isaac sounded pitifully excited. Derek hid a small smirk. Puppies were always excited. It was just their nature.  
  
“We wait. After the full moon, we will ... discuss things with the two of them.” Derek saw again her hair tangled on Stiles’ pillow, her hand on Stiles’ shoulder. He wanted to feel ridiculous that he was so jealous of a high school girl, but his wolf wouldn’t let him. It just growled, paced within him, wanted to... bite. To take out his competition with one quick snap of his teeth.  
  
Boyd pulled into the warehouse and the three of them got out. Derek hadn’t really questioned why he didn’t really allow the three of them at his home, and instead conducted pack business here. He had contractors coming out to gut the parts of his home that were unlivable, and Derek planned to rebuild the rest. He’d been lucky. One of the guest bedrooms, and most of the kitchen had been untouched by the fire. It seemed ironic that that had been where they’d found...  
  
Derek swallowed, hard, slid over to the driver’s seat, and driven to Stiles’ house to find out what Stiles had wanted to discuss.  
  
And then?  
  
Derek had heard him before he saw him. The wolf had snarled. The Alpha had gnashed his teeth at the idea of interrupting the two of them together, and Derek had been on the roof and looking in the window before he’d realized that there was only one scent. He must have made some sound in his shock, because Stiles turned, his lust-fogged eyes meeting Derek’s, and Derek had felt poleaxed. He could barely control himself. The wolf _wanted_. He’d heard himself speak Stiles’ name, had watched, mouth watering as Stiles had come all over himself, had shifted forward just the slightest bit to taste and suck and mark all of the skin in front of him... and had frozen, terrified.  
  
The wolf wanted... but Derek wasn’t only the wolf. He could control himself.  
  
Laughable.  
  
His control had mocked him on the knife’s-edge of _minemineMINE_ and Derek had _thrown_ himself back out of the window so that he wouldn’t take.claim... _keep_.  
  
Unfortunately for him, Derek couldn’t stop seeing Stiles spread out in front of him, his body twisting, the thick scent of come and sweat in the air. It made him hard every time he thought about it, and he practically thought about it every time he breathed.  
  
Once Derek had gotten some tremulous control on his wolf, he had gone back.  
  
But Stiles had been gone.  
***  
  
Stiles was still not back two days later. Texts were ignored. Derek could feel the moon, and proved to himself that he _was_ in control by not shifting. It wasn’t the first pack gathering without Stiles and Allison, but it was the first that the two’s absence had been so painfully obvious. Scott had been dancing around something all day, practically whining with nervousness, and Derek wanted to tell him just to spit it the fuck out... but.  
  
He was Alpha. He was a wolf, and he was in control. _even when he heard the sound of his name on Stiles’ lips, pleading and desperate. Even when he remembered the slickness of his (mate's) skin, the way his (mate's) hands grasped his cock, the way his (mate's) thighs trembled a little as he arched up from the bed._  
  
Derek got up and prowled around the room. Erica and Isaac were curled up on the couch. Boyd just sat calmly in the middle of the room, doing some kind of breathing technique. Scott was fiddling with his phone, frowning down at it. Derek wanted Stiles here. And the girl. She was an extension of Scott, and Stiles was an extension of.... Where _was_ he?  
  
“Derek?”  
  
Derek's voice hadn’t been entirely human when he’d responded with a snarl.  
  
“Look, there’s something that I really need to tell--”  
  
Derek’s phone rang.  
  
Stiles had programed in Sexy Back to play as Derek's ringtone. Derek told the rest of the pack that he couldn’t be bothered to change it, but the truth was that it made him smirk a little whenever he heard it.  
  
Derek was over back on his side of the room before any of them could blink.  
  
“Derek....”  
  
Every single head in the room looked up at him as he clutched the phone. Stiles sounded like death. Scott was by his side in an instant, but he knew better than to try to grab the phone, although it was plainly obvious that he wanted to.  
  
“Stiles? What the fuck?” Derek was shocked at the desperation in his own voice. His wolf that was so close to the surface snarled.  
  
“Dead. Gonna... sick”  
  
Derek felt his eyes bleed to red, felt his canines elongate. His nails were in the wall before he could even think about it, slicing through the sturdy wood like a hot knife through butter. He growled, his voice seemingly ripped through his chest. There was the sound of retching, of Stiles’ weak whimpers, as though he was too exhausted to move. Derek’s voice was almost human when he yelled into the phone, like if he just spoke up Stiles would miraculously be able to respond. “Stiles! Where? Tell me where you are.” He heard gaps in the sound that signified a cell battery was dying. “ _Stiles!_ ”  
  
There was a thump and wet sound that absolutely terrified Derek. Before the phone disconnected, He heard three syllables that made everything in him go cold.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Scott had changed before Derek could move. That was human, that one second that had Derek’s hands trembling in indecision before his wolf took over.  
  
“Stop!”  
  
Scott snarled in defiance. Derek understood. Stiles was hurt and Stiles was pack. “You will only slow me down. We have no idea where he is.”  
  
Boyd had jumped up and was emptying out Isaac’s messenger bag, tossing everything onto the floor. He vaulted over the couch. “Strip. You’ll need clothes when you find him. Your wallet and phone can go in here. Just don’t claw the fucking thing off while you’re looking for him, or you’ll be screwed.”  
  
Derek quickly stripped.  
  
“Money!” Erica bit out, and Isaac and Boyd immediately emptied their pockets. Boyd shoved everything in the bag, and zipped it.  
  
Derek couldn’t think about how accommodating they were being. He didn’t think any of them would take this as an  
opportunity to challenge him as an Alpha, but he was understandably skittish. “Scott. You won’t be able to keep up with me. You need to help keep everything together here.”  
  
Scott whined, dropping to all fours.  
  
“I’ll find him, Scott.”  
  
Scott changed back, his big brown eyes filled with tears. “You promise?”  
  
Derek just nodded, looking around at his pack. He could smell their worry, their concern for their Alpha’s well-being. Derek nodded once frantic to be gone, then shifted into his full Alpha form. The pain of bones rearranging themselves was nothing. Boyd smirked a little and set the strap of the bag around his neck. Derek growled with frustration as it slipped into place and tried running a few feet, before stopping and whining. It reeked of pack, but of the wrong packmate.  
  
Derek did _not_ like the strange thing around his body. He wanted to bite it, but he knew that its contents would help his mate, and that was everything that he wanted. He ran.  
  
It felt good to run. The woods and the moon.... the _moon_! He howled, remembering that he must go to his mate. It was strange. His pack was in another direction. Derek paused for a moment, then bunched his muscles and ran to his mate’s den and began to track. There were lots of car-scents going and coming from the house, but the newest scent gave Derek direction.Gave him a purpose. He whined a little, tongue lolling out as he scented the air.  
  
Caution kept him along the wood’s edge. His mate’s scent was strong on the large human-path that took away from his own pack. Pack was important. His mate... was everything.  
  
Derek ran. He did not grow tired. He was nothing but air in lungs that were made to run, the scent of the trees and the occasional prey blurring past him as he moved. Twice he had to venture away from his mate-scent to avoid more humans. Humans were nothing, but they could interfere. They used their clever hands to poison, to maim, to kill. They had sharp teeth and claws that could hurt him. Could hurt his mate.  
  
Once, he stopped where his mate’s scent was strong. One spot where Derek could taste his mate’s sadness, and he couldn’t help but howl in commiseration. The scent lead north, and Derek followed it. Once he came upon a human area, where they lived in his woods and hunted his prey. He did not let himself become distracted. His mate. He must find his mate.  
  
Eventually though, Derek had to shift back to his human form. He could smell Stiles more strongly now. He came out of the woods near a motel sign and ran quickly to the end cabin. He could see Stiles’ jeep, and almost felt his heart stop at the smell of pain and sickness that wafted from it. No, not from the jeep, but from the grass in front of it. From the placement of the moon he could tell that it had a little over an hour since he had left Beacon Hills.  
  
Oh _Christ._  
  
Derek knew that smell. He could smell the kanima, and could smell the decay of a turn that wasn’t taking.  
He didn’t remember going inside the cabin. One heartbeat he was on the outside of the cabin, starring in dismay at the jeep, and within the next heartbeat he was slipping in the black decay that Stiles had expelled from his body.  
  
He jerked, his brain flooding with memories, as he pulled Stiles into his lap. This wasn’t a wolf bite, but surely the theory was the same for another shapeshifter? His parents had once had to nurse a sick member of the pack; a human whose bite had not taken. It was similar to wolvesbane poisoning. The human body would fight to keep its humanity, throwing off any attempt to change the cells. Almost always, if the Alpha was strong enough, the wolf won. But sometimes, the human body was so contrary that it would fight, attempting to expel the intruder as it would during any other attack to its immune system.His sister had always laughed and said that there was a metaphor in there somewhere. Derek had never found it very funny.  
  
In his parents’ case, the human had not been strong enough. He had died in pain so strong that at the end they had killed him to stop his agony.  
  
Derek’s nose was almost bombarded by the stench of sickness and decay. He made himself shut that part of himself off, and gently turned Stiles over. The mark of the kanima was oozing a black, tarry substance that caused Stiles’ skin to redden as it touched him. Derek took a quick breath and sliced the bloated skin at the back of Stiles’ neck, wincing at the spray of decay that arced up and over his own thigh. He moved Stiles to the bathtub, placing him in there as gently as he could, letting the wound drain. Derek whined a little in the back of his throat, absently grabbing a towel to clean Stiles’ face. When he heard himself, he stopped.  
  
Stiles’ eyes fluttered, but he passed out again before Derek could speak to him.  
  
It seemed like forever before there was good, clean blood mixed in with the endless stream of foul-smelling death. Derek turned on the cold water and cleaned the tub as best he could. Fortunately, everything went down the drain, but they were both filthy. Derek knew that with his parents’ human, they had had to lance the foul bites several times, like a boil.  
  
Derek didn’t have any medicines with him. He refused to leave Stiles, even for a minute to go get anything. Besides, what could human medicine do for a shapeshifter’s bite? Derek stood and grabbed all of the soaps and shampoo, along with Stiles’ own toothpaste and toothbrush.  
  
Derek climbed into the tub behind Stiles, filling the large, oversized tub with water that seemed tepid to his own body heat, but sent Stiles’ pale skin rosy pink. He washed Stiles’ body, cleaned him, turning his body over so that he rested on top of Derek, his face nestled in the space between Derek’s shoulder and his neck. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth before plugging the drain and letting the tub continue to fill with water.  
  
Tentatively, Derek licked at the wound. He could taste the kanima, and it revolted him. It just seemed so... wrong. Anathema that Stiles would not be of his own pack. Derek could still hear Stiles’ heartbeat, and took comfort in feeling his breathing. He was afraid to allow the wound to close. His saliva would do that, would seek to heal Stiles as he had done once before.  
  
“Mmm?”  
  
Derek’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Derek?” He buried his nose deeper in Derek’s chest. “You’re real?”  
  
Derek couldn’t have stopped the relieved smile for anything. “Yeah. You’re sick. Your body is fighting off---”  
  
“Y’think... a wolfbite would ...make it go away?”  
  
Derek became very, very still. His human side _screamed_ at him, but his wolf just heard his mate asking to be pack. He had to physically make himself unclench his hand from the side of the tub. Derek opened his mouth to respond, but could tell by Stiles’ breathing that he had passed out again, saving him from a reply.  
  
They floated there in the warm water, until Stiles began to shiver. Derek stood and took him to the bed, pulling off the comforter and wrapping Stiles in it. He set him gently on the bed, then looked around the room.  
  
There was only a small area of sickness near the front door. Now Derek could scent the blood there and frowned, imagining that Stiles had knocked himself out and had lay there for god knew how long.  
  
The bathroom was the worst part. Derek could clean it. He would have to. Stiles could be out for hours, or for minutes. He would need to continue to clean the wound, and the water seemed to draw out the sickness better than just hanging him over the side. Derek bit his lip as he thought, indecisive.  
  
He went outside to get Isaac’s messenger bag.  
  
A pimple-faced kid wearing a polo shirt with the motel’s logo stood gaping at him, and it was only then that Derek realized that he was dripping wet and completely naked.  
  
“Uh... I... Good _evening_ , sir.”  
  
“Can you get me towels? A lot of towels. And soaps and maybe another set of sheets? Another blanket? The kid stared at him. The smell of desire that wafted off of him made Derek furious, but he could work with what he was given. He took a step closer. Forced a smile. “I would really appreciate it.”  
  
The kid’s eyes bugged. “Sure!” He turned back towards the office.  
  
“Wait.” Derek dug inside the bag and pulled out two fifties. “How much is a night here?”  
  
“Thirty-f-five ninety-eight.”  
  
“Great. Give me two nights. I’ll be staying here. And a lot of towels and blankets and stuff.” Derek forced his cheesy smile to turn a little wicked. “I won’t be leaving him for awhile. And.. keep the change.”  
  
“R-r-riight. Of course. I’ll just be a sec.”  
  
Derek waited a minute, the smile draining away from his face. Both his wolf and the human part of him was disgusted at the way he’d spoken. Derek would prefer that that asshat didn’t know of Stiles’ existence. Derek had pulled on his boxers and his t-shirt by the time the worker returned. The kid winked and gave him the large pile of towels and bedclothes. Derek wanted to bite something as he jerked them out of the kid’s hands. “Thanks,” he muttered instead, closing and locking the door.  
  
He used the old towels and the sheets that stank of Stiles’ sweat to clean up the black sickness, tossing them outside. It didn’t completely obliterate the scent, but very little would. Especially on tonight of all nights, Derek’s senses were stronger than normal.  
  
Dawn found him seated on the side of the tub as he held Stiles up, cleaning him as the sickness leaked from his eyes, his ears, and the small tear of skin on the back of his neck. Derek was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. He lost count of all the times he would clean Stiles, wash him. Stiles would wake just enough to see that Derek was there, then would pass out again, lost to nightmares and sickness.  
  
More hours passed. Derek refused to stop, cleaning when Stiles was still, holding him when he shook with the fever or the tremors of his muscles adjusting to being wholly human. Finally, just as the sun set, Stiles muttered sharply and fell into a real sleep. It had been several hours since the decay of the kanima’s bite had bled that sick blackness. Derek didn’t know if that meant Stiles was better or not. His heartbeat was steadier. So was his breathing. He began to smell like _Stiles_ again. He stripped the sheets one last time and dressed Stiles in a pair of pajama pants, knowing that if _(when!)_ he woke up Stiles would not want to be naked. The blankets were shot, filthy and reeking.  
  
Derek saw little goosebumps on Stiles’ skin, and only struggled for a minute before he shifted again to his Alpha form, approaching the bed somewhat warily. His mate slept. His mate was not well yet, but he... slept. The too-slow beat of his mate’s heart was comforting, filling the room until that was all he heard.  
  
Derek curled up around Stiles, his front to Stiles’ back, touching him with as much of his body as he could. His wolf grumbled a bit at the uncomfortable position, but eventually the sound of his mate’s breathing lulled him to sleep.  
  
Now that his mate was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those of you who have left kudos and/or comments on here or my lj. ♥


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta! Wooot! Besides jlm121 (who introduced me to Teenwolf) who is always amazing and helps me go over the chapter, diva0789 has sacrificed herself to my comma splices, and agreed to beta for me! :D
> 
> On a more serious note, there's a small possibly squicky part in this chapter involving bloodplay... kind of. You'll see what I mean. Personally, I think it's more inadvertent kink than bloodplay, but I thought I better warn just in case.

 

Derek woke slowly, in increments. He had shifted back to his human form while he slept and he was blissfully warm. Stiles’ heartbeat was strong and steady. Derek listened to it, pressing his face a little closer into the pillow. He rubbed his chin against the short hairs on Stiles’ head, his whole body feeling relaxed.

  
Stiles was drooling a little onto Derek’s shoulder, wrapped around him so closely that their legs tangled. The toes of Stiles’ right foot were stuck under Derek’s calf. His breaths were deep and even, and after the terrifying events of last night, each slow, measured inhale and exhale made the single-minded panic less real.

  
Stiles made a muttering noise and snuffled into Derek’s armpit, his lips moving against his skin. Derek allowed himself to stroke the back of Stiles’ head, moving so that he could see the now-healed scar on the back of his neck. He touched it with one finger. Derek wanted to lick it, but...

  
He knew exactly when Stiles went from sleepy-stupid to awake. Every single muscle in Stiles’ body tensed and Derek’s eyes narrowed as Stiles tried to ease away from Derek. He moved one arm down, the wolf tightening around his mate briefly on pure instinct, before the human half remembered that he couldn’t keep Stiles here if he didn’t want to be.

  
“Uh.”

  
Derek could feel the heat of Stiles’ skin as he blushed and rolled his eyes at the younger man’s embarrassment, frowning. He struggled for a minute between _minemine_ and _back off_ , then compromised by ghosting one hand down Stiles’ shoulder, his arm and tightening his grip around Stiles’ wrist. Stiles could break it if he wanted to, but Derek couldn’t bear to part with him completely.

  
“You called me.”

  
Stiles eased slowly away, moving his legs so that they weren’t tangled together. Derek moved his fingers on Stiles’ wrist, this nail scraping lightly against the delicate skin there and frowned a little at the way Stiles’ heartbeat ratcheted _up_ , instead of _down_. Still if he let go, it would be a repeat of last time, with Stiles’ falling over himself to get away from Derek. He didn’t want that.

  
“I... thought I dreamed that.” Stiles backed up a little bit further so that he could tilt his head to look Derek in the face. Stiles’ face was still cherry-tomato red, his heartrate still thudding like a rabbit’s, but he wasn’t running.

  
It was a start.

  
“No.”

  
Stiles jackknifed up with a gasp, jerking his hand out of Derek’s grip and patting down his own body. “I’m. I’m not a..... I”

  
Derek made a small sound in the back of his throat and rolled fully onto his back, stretching, hearing the little pops of his joints readjusting all the way from his neck to his toes.

  
“I need to call my dad. What day is it? He’s going to kill me.” Stiles paused then rubbed the back of his neck. don’t _feel_ kanima-y oh my _god_.”

  
Stiles’ voice ended on a squeak. Derek finished his stretch and rolled out of bed. His jeans were pretty rough, but they’d do. At least they didn’t reek of decay. He pulled them up over his bare ass, buttoned and zipped them, and turned back to Stiles, who was sitting on the bed, staring determinedly down at the floor.

  
“Look. I’ve been here for almost a day and a half. We need to leave. We need to get back to Beacon Hills. And Stiles?” Stiles jerked his gaze up from the carpet. Derek almost took a step back at the misery he saw there.

  
Not to put too fine a point on it, but Derek wasn’t exactly used to waking up with someone and having them feel anything but aroused. He hadn’t fucked anyone since he’d taken on the role of Alpha... and Stiles’ conflicting emotions seemed... strange. Derek knew it wouldn’t take much from him to just overwhelm him, to convince him to stop listening to his mind and just listen to his body, but...

  
The thought of the distress that would cause Stiles made him cringe inwardly. Derek could picture his sister shaking her head at his weakness with that little smirk on her face that told him she was amused, but not about to tell him that she was amused. _Pack was everything, Derek. Protect the Pack._

  
“Um.” Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but why are .. why did you come. Here! Come _here_ I mean. To... Portland?”

  
Derek blinked. There was no malice in his voice, no rancor. Just honest confusion. How? How did Stiles not know why...? Stiles couldn’t successfully lie to Derek, but Derek could certainly lie to Stiles. “Scott asked me to.” He spoke without thinking, still reeling from the idea that Stiles didn’t understand why he had been so _panic-stricken, desperate, terrified_ concerned.

  
Stiles nodded and slid off the bed, still not meeting his gaze. “Okay. How about pancakes? I’m fucking starving.”

* * *

 

***

  
It had been easy to cover the preternatural tracks. The room still reeked, but all traces of the black decay had been mopped up with the towels and blankets, and the towels and blankets burned. Stiles had insisted that they pay for what they burned, and even though Derek had rolled his eyes, he’d forked over the hundred bucks that Stiles had left on the bedside table. They’d taken all their stuff and piled it in the jeep. Derek hadn’t let Stiles drive, which Stiles had been less than happy about.

  
Derek had found an Ihop and asked to be seated in the back of the restaurant, ignoring the smirking look the waitress gave them. Stiles still looked pale, but only nodded when Derek asked him how he was doing. It bothered him that Stiles was sitting unnaturally still. No tapping, no talking, no leg-jittering.

  
“So. I found out some interesting information about the kanima? Other than I was almost one, that is.”

  
Derek blinked. “Of course you did.”

  
Stiles smiled up at the waitress as she tipped over his coffee mug, and Derek felt it like a punch to the gut. He watched as Stiles added three sugars and two creamers and took a sip, his eyes closing. “Oh Jesus that’s ... I love caffeine. I would marry caffeine if I could.” He took another sip and darted a glance back up at Derek, then back down to the table. “Um. I had started communicating with a guy online. When I found him, I had no idea he was actually a kanima. I guess I never realized that they were so popular.” Stiles make an exploding sound out of the corner of his mouth. “Boom! Everywhere. That’s weird, right? I mean, why Beacon Hills, Right? But yeah. I went there on the morning of the full moon. I think I scared the shit out of him and his ... mate.”

  
Derek who had been grinding his teeth at the idea of Stiles just meeting some random person on the internet reached out with lightning-quick reflexes grabbing Stiles’ wrist again.

  
Stiles jumped back in his booth seat, staring up at Derek, meeting his eyes with his own gaze. “You met an Alpha... alone?”

  
“See? That’s so _weird_! He freaked out too, only he was all afraid you were going to rip his head off. Can you let go of my wrist please?” The question asked so casually that Derek did so without thinking. “Uh. Okay so, the kanima aren’t focused on pack. They tend to pair up, either as friends or as...” Stiles trailed off, paling even more. “Uh. Trying not to freak out here, but does that mean that the one that turned me .... wants me?”

  
“Tried to turn you. It didn’t take.” Derek frowned. He’d been trying to ignore that little fact. It made his blood boil. It made him struggle to control his rage. Sure the back corner of this little restaurant was fairly uninhabited, but he was pretty sure wolfing out would cause _some_ people to pay attention. He’d been furious when they’d put together that the Kanima had stalked Stiles at the mechanic shop, and again at the pool.

  
Something wanted what was his.

  
“You’re ah. Sure about that?”

  
Derek nodded, stalling, running back over the conversation to make sure they were still talking about Stiles fighting the kanima’s bite. They were interrupted by the waitress.

  
“Hi! What can I get y’all?”

  
Stiles looked delighted as he ordered half of the menu. Derek just shook his head, and ordered a small stack of pancakes. He was pleased that Stiles had such an appetite. They ate, not talking much.

  
Derek could tell that Stiles was still uncomfortable with him, and hell, he could understand that. It had been a little bit awkward for him to see Stiles after he had saved his life, and Stiles had been in much worse shape.

  
They finished, and Derek handed Stiles his phone. It was still dead, but he had cleaned it, meticulously making sure that there was no trace of decay on it before handing it back.

  
“Thanks, Derek.”

  
Derek just nodded. It bothered him that Stiles was still acting so bizarrely around him, and he hoped to be able to discuss everything on the drive back to Beacon Hills. Derek paid the bill and they went back out towards the jeep.

  
“Hey, I _can_ drive you know.”

  
Derek raised an eyebrow. That was all the warning Stiles got. He’d been feeling twitchy, and was tired of talking his wolf out of taking what it wanted. Just a taste couldn’t hurt, surely. Derek whirled, his sudden movement causing Stiles to jump back against his jeep. Derek’s moved his hand between the metal roll bar and Stiles’ head so that Stiles wouldn’t hurt himself, his other hand resting on the other side of Stiles’ shoulder. Derek moved his nose so that it brushed against Stiles’ neck, listening to the rapid heartbeat and the way that the younger man’s breath caught in his chest. “You’re still shaky. Your knees are trembling.” Derek inhaled, enjoying the way he could still scent himself on Stiles’ skin.

  
Stiles just swallowed with a dry click.

  
Derek took a step back and jingled the keys. “Stiles, do you know how many people I’ve seen die from what just happened to you?” He walked around to the other side and got into the driver’s seat. He had put the key in and started the car before Stiles climbed in beside him. “You need to take it easy.” Derek stretched his arm out, turning to see behind him as he put the jeep in gear and backed out. When Stiles grabbed his wrist he stomped the brakes so hard that they both rocked in their seats.

  
“Did. Did I dream that I asked you to bite me?”

  
It was Derek’s turn to swallow, his own green eyes wide as he stared into Stiles’ dark brown stare. He was aware of a frustrated honk from behind him.

  
“Derek?”

  
Funny how when Stiles wanted to be, he could be just as serious and dogged in getting answers. It was a good trait to have in a mate. The thought made his entire body tighten.

  
Derek pulled his wrist out of Stiles’ surprisingly strong grip and eased the jeep out into traffic, stalling for time to get his body under control before he responded. Even though his rational brain knew that Stiles had been almost incoherent with the bite’s poison, his instinct still... struggled with not just going ahead and claiming what was his. To do what his mate had asked. He waited until he’d merged onto I-5 before responding, needing that much time to be able to speak calmly when he felt anything but calm. “Yes. You did. But you were out of your mind.”

  
Stiles collapsed back against the seat, closing his eyes. “Thank you.. again. At this rate, I’m going to owe you for the rest of my life. Talk about dodging a bullet. That’s the second time I almost turned furry once a month.”

  
Derek’s fingers might have tightened a little on the steering wheel. “The... second time? Doesn’t McCall know that only an Alpha can--”

  
“It wasn’t _Scott_. Jeez!”

  
Derek’s fingers relaxed slightly, then tightened again as what Stiles _hadn’t_ said registered. He felt his fingers slip into claws, felt the way his own heartbeat increased, his senses sharpening as his fury and rage overwhelmed him for a minute. Saliva flooded his throat.

  
Stiles still sat with his eyes shut. He made a face. “Ugh. Your uncle was kind of creepy on a lot of levels, Derek, not even gonna lie. Still he didn’t just chomp me, like he did Scott, so that’s something, right?”

  
“Mm.” It sounded like he was agreeing. If he could kill his uncle again, he would. The rage of knowing it was his own _uncle-_ his own _pack-_ that killed his sister had filled Derek with fury. Knowing that Peter had wanted _Stiles_...?

  
It was all that he could do to control himself. They were on a busy interstate. Changing now would only put Stiles in danger, and _that_ was unacceptable. _Pack was everything, Derek. Protect the Pack._ However, it took him so long to get control that Stiles had fallen asleep before Derek could bring himself to speak.

  
Stiles asleep was a study in contrasts. Derek’s hard gaze, still furious at the _idea_ of Stiles belonging to Peter and not to him, softened. Stiles’ head had lolled a little on the headrest, his mouth open slightly as he breathed. Derek breathed deeply. Stiles...

  
Wait.

  
Wait a minute.

  
Derek jerked the wheel in one smooth move, pulling over to the side of the road in seconds. Stiles didn’t even wake, but the motion of the car pushed his face up against the window in a way that had Derek not been completely panicking, would have found rather amusing. With shaking hands Derek undid his seatbelt and crawled over, still inhaling deeply, something inside of him certain that if he just kept trying, his were senses would be all ‘Oh just kidding. As you were.’

  
He couldn’t scent Stiles’ emotions. _He couldn’t scent Stiles’ emotions!_

  
Derek tried to think back over the events of that morning, but rising dread was making it hard to concentrate. He brushed the bottom of his chin against Stiles’ head, closing his eyes and trying not to completely freak out. No. No, he had been able to hear Stiles’ heartbeat, and feel the heat of his skin when he was embarrassed, but he hadn’t been able to scent those emotions. Derek pulled away, completely gobsmacked. He had never heard of that before.

  
“We’ere yet?” Stiles sleepy mumble had Derek pulling back.

  
“No. I need to bite you.”

  
Stiles’ eyes flew open. “I beg your... _what_?”

  
“I need to taste your blood.”

  
Yeah. nothing. No scent of terror or arousal, nothing. Stiles had gone very still, and Derek could hear his heartbeat, but ... it was like the otherworldly sense that he had since his father confirmed him as a Beta was just... gone. Poof.

  
“You need to.. uh.”

  
“Stiles. Something. There’s something wrong. I..” but his words failed him. Stiles sat up, straightening in the seat.

  
“Okay.”

  
Just like that. His heartrate hadn’t slowed, but just like that Stiles gave him his trust and Derek was floored. Everyone... _Everyone_ wanted something from him. Protection or his money or to better themselves by destroying him. Stiles looked utterly serious.

  
“I. I won’t...”

  
“I know Derek.” Stiles tipped his head back, bearing his throat.

_Bearing his throat_

  
Derek had jumped back on the side of the car before he could blink, desperately trying to cling to the remnants of his control. How could he protect _StileshispackStiles_ if he wasn’t fully an Alpha? How could he trust his instincts if they weren’t reliable? Puppies. Even _Scott_ could scent a person’s emotions.

  
“Derek? It’s... okay. Uh.” Stiles’ hand creeped up on Derek’s shoulder, tightening briefly. “Seriously, it’s... okay it’s freaking me out a little, but I know you wouldn’t uh. I know that the intent isn’t there.”

  
Okay. It was okay. He could do this. Derek reached out and took Stiles’ other hand, their fingers sliding together. Derek pulled Stiles hand to his lips, running the pads of his first two fingers against his cheek, lips quirking even in his panic at the scent of blueberry syrup that he could smell over Stiles’ own scent. Stiles’ heart rate rocketed as Derek looked down at Stiles’ face. Derek had a split-second of indecision; remembering his earlier decision that he would not pressure him, that he wanted Stiles to come to him when he was ready but he was biting, his teeth sliding through the flesh and the taste of Stiles filled his mouth and it was fucking _bliss_.

  
Heat and iron and the realization that no, he hadn’t fucked something up, that Stiles really was completely human. Derek was certain that there was nothing otherworldly in his blood and the relief made him weak.

  
Stiles made a small sound and Derek came back to himself, licking at the wound to heal it, his questions answered. He swallowed, staring blindly at the vinyl seat, hard and throbbing in his jeans.

  
Stiles snatched his hand back and turned again in his seat so that he was staring out of the windshield, every single muscle in his body telegraphing his complete discomfort. “So.. that was some sort of weird werewolf shit, right? You seriously didn’t just pull an Edward Cullen on me?”

  
Derek frowned, shaking his head to jar himself out of his stupor. He felt relaxed and lethargic, like he had just come. Only the certainty that Stiles would probably be high-tailing it out of the jeep, screaming, convinced him that he hadn’t. “I... realized that I couldn’t smell you. Scent. Properly.”

  
A muscle jumped in Stiles’ tightened jaw. He shifted in his seat. Derek tightened his fingers on the steering wheel, breathing out a harsh breath. “Didn’t you get enough pancakes?”

  
Derek started the car, glaring out of the window. “No, you idiot. I thought that I had missed something, that you weren’t human anymore. I’m... sorry... about the bite. It won’t happen again.” Derek gunned the engine and pulled back out into traffic, resolved to get home as soon as he could.

  
“You thought _what?!?”_

  
Derek growled a little, frustrated at himself for not explaining things right. He wasn’t good at this talking shit. It was much easier when he ordered something and his wolves fell over themselves to comply with his wishes. He glanced over at Stiles out of the corner of his eye. Stiles was sitting as far away from him as he could, staring down at his hand. Derek could see the way the blood pulsed through his veins, could see the way he bit his lip, the nervous way his toes tapped inside of his shoe, but he couldn’t be _sure_ of Stiles’ emotions. He sighed, pinching the top of his nose. “Werewolves can scent the emotions of humans. We can tell when they are nervous, or scared, or excited... anything. Each emotion is like...” Derek trailed off. “Like a different flavor of candy on the back of my tongue. It was... a bit of a shock to realize that I couldn’t read you. I.. didn’t handle it well. My apologies.”

  
Stiles bit his lip again, working the plump flesh again and all at once Derek saw him stretched out before him, covered in his own sweat and come. Heard his name moaned in the quiet room.

  
And almost swallowed his tongue.

  
“So, uh? You’re sure then? That I’m... human?” Stiles voice shook with nerves. He still refused to meet Derek’s gaze, but that was understandable, Derek reflected, all things considered.

  
“You’re human.” The taste of him still coated his mouth, and the wolf inside muttered, curling up contentedly.

  
Derek echoed that contentment when less than a half hour later, Stiles fell back asleep, as though he couldn’t keep his own eyes open. He trusted Derek enough to sleep near him.

  
It was a start.

  
Derek’s smile was wolfish as he drove back to Beacon Hills.

  
***

* * *

“Stiles.”

  
“Hmm?”

  
“We need to make a detour before I drive you home.”

  
Stiles yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The three hours had passed in almost complete silence, Derek watching the road and watching Stiles sleep in equal amounts, unable to help himself. Just spending that much time with him calmed him. Derek almost felt like he had been the one to rest.

  
Derek pulled into the parking lot of the warehouse he’d bought, taking a deep breath. He could tell that everyone was here by their cars and Scott’s bicycle, parked haphazardly near the dumpster.

  
“You ready? We need to tell them what happened.”

  
“Not really.” Stiles made a face. “This has a potential for ball-sucking that completely overshadows all things that have ever sucked balls before in the history of ever.”

  
Derek tried not to pant at the image Stiles’ words invoked. Fucking Christ, he was pathetic. It made him rethink his decision to let Stiles come to him when he was ready... His hand tightened so tightly on the door handle that it gave a little protesting squeal of metal. Stiles had already slammed his door shut, grabbing his backpack and hauling it over his shoulder. Derek firmly told his libido to take a fucking hike, and joined him, pulling open the metal door and ushering Stiles inside.

  
“Wait ‘til you hear what Scott did...!” Erica’s sing-song voice rang out across the empty warehouse, causing Derek’s step to falter for a second as he looked over at Scott. She flopped down onto the couch near Isaac, smirking, tossing her hair. Derek rolled his eyes. He’d thought she’d gotten over the idea that she was the beta to his Alpha.

  
“That will have to wait. We have some pack business to take care of first.” Derek tried not to let himself react when Stiles scurried over to his friend, hugging him hard, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder for a second. They turned away, but Derek could still clearly hear them.

  
“-- were seriously worried, man. Why the hell did you leave? I could have...”

  
Isaac gave him a little wave and turned off his ipod. Boyd flipped through a book, obviously striving to look bored, but not missing any of the little drama unfolding in the room.

  
“Don’t even. If you hadn’t asked Derek to g--” Stiles hugged him again, the relieved grin stretching his face.

  
“Scott! Stiles!” Derek gave them a dirty look, just barely remembering the lie he’d told Stiles in time. Scott bristled with anger, his eyes flashing slightly at the call to heel. “Maybe you didn’t hear me. We have _pack business_ to discuss.”

  
Scott glared, moving so that Stiles was behind him, protective. The sight made Derek want to go for his throat and ask questions later. How _dare_ that little whelp get between...

  
“Yeah? Well I’ve been _trying_ to discuss something pretty darn important with you for days, and you keep totally ignoring me! You want to tell us why you’re planning on killing our friends?” Killing Lydia? Jackson? You don’t even know if they’re turned or not! For all you know, Lydia could be immune to the bite.”

  
Derek saw Stiles’ face pale at the mention of killing Lydia. Jealousy was once again bitter in the back of his throat. He forced himself to speak quietly, calmly, although he was anything but calm. “Until very recently, a human having an immunity to a were-bite was unheard of.” His gaze burned into Stiles’. “ Humans have their place in a pack, but we can discuss that later. Right now, we need a new plan. Killing the two of them would not be wise. I do intend to.. discuss their ... methods of turning, however. The Hale pack _will_ be the only pack in this territory.”

  
Scott glared. “Yeah, well, if you’re so happy with Stiles, then tell me why you don’t think of him as part of this pack?”

  
Derek’s burning gaze jerked to Scott’s. “What are you talking about?”

  
“Look. You can’t just.” He made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Stiles shouldn’t have to worry about someone biting him, or beating the shit out of him, or you acting all _insane_ just because he’s my friend.”

  
“Uh, Scott? I am actually right here, you know. Stiles can speak for himself.”

  
Derek was aware of Boyd slowly making his way towards Stiles, his nostrils flaring slightly. Scott turned to his friend, frowning. “I know, Stiles. But don’t act like you didn’t feel left out when I drove you home last week.. or whenever it was, after you spent the night at Derek’s house.”

  
“ _He_ spent the night with _Derek?!_ ” Erica’s voice was disbelieving. Isaac looked uncomfortable, pulling ineffectually on the sleeve of her jacket.

  
Scott ignored her. “You do everything for us. And I think that they,” Scott jerked his head towards Derek, Isaac, Boyd and Erica, “Should acknowledge it.” He jutted out his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest.

  
Derek tilted his head, confused. “What the fuck are you talking about? Stiles is just as much pack as anyone else here.”

  
Even Isaac laughed at that. Derek went cold, then hot at the thought that he had allowed this disrespect to become such that it was accepted as truth. He knew his eyes bled to red as he straightened to his full height, the hint of Alpha putting an inarguable punch in his words. Stiles was watching him with wide eyes, still standing behind his friend, as though he expected that his place was apart from his pack.

  
“When you.” Derek’s gaze centered on Scott’s. “When _any_ of you...” Derek allowed his gaze to move from Boyd, who had already frozen, submission in every line of his body. To Isaac, who practically whined with his need to please, almost vibrating on the couch, to Erica who was staring at her Alpha in shock, looking like she’d just put a rather intriguing puzzle together, to Stiles who stared at him, eyes locked in an intense stare that caught Derek’s gaze and made it impossible to turn away... “..can say that you’ve done as much to help or protect the members of this pack, _then_ you can dictate to me who you feel is deserving of who. is. **_pack_**.” Something leaped in Stiles’ gaze, and it caused Derek to forget for a heartbeat that they weren’t alone in the room. Stiles’ body shifted just slightly, as though the muscles were already moving towards Derek, and the sense of satisfaction made his blood sing.

  
“Well. That would explain the eyefucking.” Erica looked from Stiles, to Derek and back to Stiles, her full lips twisting in a smirk.

  
Derek’s attention was caught by Scott’s face, looking somewhere between horrified and understanding, as though he too had just gotten the punchline of some joke. Before any of them could speak, they heard the slight squeak of brakes out of alignment, the sound of a car turning off the main road.

  
The werewolves all tensed. Stiles seemed to shake himself out of something, looking towards them, then the door with confusion on his face.

  
“Who--?” Isaac was on his feet, looking to Derek for answers. “I thought you said no one knew we were here.”

  
“No one does.”

  
The polite knock on the door startled everyone, even though the footsteps had made it plain that a human was approaching. Five pairs of wolf eyes zeroed in on Stiles and he froze, startled.

  
“What?” Who is that?”

  
The knock sounded again. “I do actually know that you’re in there. You wanna go ahead and open the door?”  
  
  
Sheriff Stilinski did _not_ sound amused.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this, and to those of you who have left kudos or commented. I really, truly appreciate the encouragement!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> *taps mike* 
> 
> Ahem!  
>  **  
> **  
> This part leaves off with a cliffhanger of keysmashery proportions! Do NOT read this chapter if you are easily irked, have access to weapons or know where I live. I promise the next chapter will be up Tuesday!  
>  **
> 
> * * *
> 
> (*runs and hides*)

  
  
Derek’s eyes narrowed. He could smell nervousness from .... Scott, of all people. Everyone just sort of stood there, looking back and forth from Derek to the door, until Stiles sucked his teeth, rolled his eyes, and walked over to let his father in.  
  
“Hi, dad! What’s.... up?”  
  
“Stiles.” Sheriff Stilinski raised an eyebrow, then met Derek’s gaze without flinching. “Do I need to be invited across the threshold or something?”  
  
Derek lifted his chin, his mind working very quickly. He wasn’t sure exactly what the sheriff knew, but he clearly knew something. Scott took a quick step back, scared enough that Derek thought Scott might wet himself if Derek did anything even vaguely threatening in his direction. “No, you do not.” Derek forced something smile-like that didn’t fool anyone. “ I’ll admit that I’m a little confused as to why you’re here, sheriff.”  
  
Stilinski’s eyebrows rose. “Are you?”  
  
Derek tightened his jaw. So much for being polite. “Say what you want to say and get out.”  
  
He didn’t need to read Stiles’ emotions to be able to understand what he was feeling. Stiles’ glare was pretty succinct. Derek purposefully made his body relax, hoping that his pack would take their cue from him. Grudgingly, he amended his greeting to his mate’s father. “I... suppose that we can carve out a few minutes for whatever you have to say. But we do have pressing business to discuss. Please come in.”  
  
Derek could _feel_ six pairs of eyes _what-the-fucking_ at him at the ‘please.’  
  
Stilinski didn’t waste any time, walking inside and looking around curiously. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but shut it with a small ‘pop’ at the look his father gave him.  
  
“So... before things get any more unpleasant, I wanted you to know that I’m not here in a negative capacity.” He muttered, “I hope.” under his breath, clearly not realizing that almost everyone in the warehouse could hear him. “But I have some things to show you, and some things to ask you... and Jesus Christ, some things to tell you. So.”  
  
The Sheriff made his way over to the wall, opening the folder. He calmly started sticking some photographs up on the wall, and the sheer _gall_ of the act had Derek’s lips twitching in something much closer to a smile. It reminded him all at once that his family had always done what they could to respect human law, and this particular officer in particular... although he had been only a deputy when his parents had been killed. Humans in Beacon Hills knew that the Hales were pretty off, but Derek never saw Stiles’ father treat any of his pack that way.  
  
“It may come as a surprise to you that you guys are not all that secretive as you may have thought. I got these from a buddy of mine.”  
  
Derek looked up and hit hit him like a fist; the smiling faces of his mother, and his father.. and Laura. The picture of his parents was one that he had never seen before. They were much younger than he remembered, his mother smiling up into his father’s eyes with a wicked little smirk on her face. His dad had been captured on camera right before he burst out laughing. The picture of Laura was of her for a middle school dance. Derek remembered how excited she’d been to go- her first dance- her first real dress- the first time their parents let her wear makeup- but she’d taken the time to pose for one picture with Derek before her parents took her to the school. Derek saw a much younger version of himself grinning at the camera, his hand around his sister’s waist. Laura was looking down at him instead of looking at the photographer.  
  
Derek had Stilinski pinned against the wall before he could blink, snapping at him with bared teeth when he moved to defend himself. He heard Stiles’ gasp behind him, heard his own packmates growling at his violent reaction, but instinct had him almost crossing the line between fury and something that he couldn’t come back from.. “Why do you have those?” Derek didn’t care that his question was more roar; less human, and all feral.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be asking _how_ do I have those? Now, back off, son, and save your,” Stiles’ dad waved a hand,indicating the fact that he was pinned to a wall two feet off the ground by an angry werewolf, “... _anger_ for someone who deserves it.” He pushed at Derek’s shoulders, and Derek dropped him, stunned as what the Sheriff was saying registered. It was hard to let the rage go. Habit had him reacting to people using his family as some sort of weapon. The Sheriff just casually putting the pictures up there made him....  
  
There were _pictures_. Of his _family._  
  
Derek had taken two steps closer, feeling like a fish being reeled in. He ignored everyone else in the room and just started, blinking a little more rapidly than he normally would. He noticed that all four of them were haloed by a bright light, as though someone had focused a lens flare behind their bodies, throwing a nimbus of shadow and light around each of them.  
“How did you get these?” Weres _never_ showed up on film.  
  
“Ah, well that’s kind of a long story.” The Sheriff rubbed the back of his neck, wincing. “Jesus, I’m lucky you didn’t take my throat out when I questioned you about your sister’s body.”  
  
Derek didn’t say anything. It was true, after all. He made himself stop looking at his family and forced his features into blankness. He had long years of practice schooling his heart into relaxing, evening out his breathing to hide his inner rage. “Then sit down and tell me.”Derek's voice was like gravel.  The sheriff turned to take a few steps back towards the couch. Derek had been so wrapped up in the punch of emotion to his gut that he hadn’t noticed that Stiles had taken a few steps closer, and was in the process of reaching out to touch him. It was just a fleeting brush of skin, Stiles’ fingertip against the tanned skin on the back of Derek’s hand, but it caused Derek’s eyes to drift shut as he breathed. He was not exactly calm, but not as full of rage. His throat tightened.  
  
When he opened his eyes, it was to see the Sheriff flicking his blank gaze from his son to Derek, missing nothing.  
Stiles walked to sit by Scott, who, along with Boyd had come closer, claiming an upside-down crate. Derek just took a step back against the wall, crossing his arms. The sheriff nodded once, as if agreeing, and began.  
  
“About a week ago I cornered my son. He had been acting weirder than normal, and I was--” He paused. “Concerned. All of the sudden, Stiles is coming home with bruises. He’s a little quieter than normal. Trust me, it’s noticeable.” The sheriff met his son’s gaze, smirking a little. Stiles rolled his eyes and made a ‘come on come on’ gesture with his hand. “Then he doesn’t come home. I thought... I suspected. That he was in some sort of abusive relationship. That he was in over his head.” The wave of pure protective _fury_ that rolled off of Stiles’ father made the four werewolves seated next to him shift back in their seats, uncomfortable. “Then I come to find out that I was right.”  
  
Stiles opened his mouth to protest, but his dad just raised his hand, forestalling him. “That you were in over your head. You told me that you were _attacked_ ” The wave of _terror_ made even Derek wince. “And I decided to call in a buddy of mine. We went to school together and still kept in touch. I flew out to meet him.” The sheriff shrugged. “I wasn’t really all that excited about leaving, but I figured that between Scott and whatever it is that _you’re_ doing for my son, he was as safe as he could be here in Beacon Hills.”  
  
“But...! You told me you were going to a convention!” Stiles’ protest was the high-pitched whine of one who had been undeniably punked.  
  
Derek watched the sheriff gave his son an exasperated look. He knew that look well. “Really? You thought I went to a convention after I find out there are werewolves running amok in my town? No of course not. I found out as much shit as I could about you guys.”  
  
Isaac snorted, then turned bright red as everyone looked at him. He slunk down a little in his seat, clearly mortified.  
  
“My buddy is kind of an oddball. Believes in a bunch of weird crap. Like werewolves, as it turns out. Only thing is, he _also_ heads the Department of ... well he rattled off some governmental name bullshit but I started calling it the Department of Weird Shit in my head and that kind of stuck."  
  
“Oh my sweet baby Jesus. My dad knows Mulder and works with the Department of Mysteries.” Stiles’ tone was reverent.  
Even Boyd’s lips twitched at that.  
  
“Well, long story short, I mentioned that there had been some weird animal attacks. And he said a funny thing.” Stilinski’s gaze settled on Scott. “He mentioned the Argents. Scott, when is the last time that you’ve seen them?”  
  
Scott seemed surprised to have all of the sheriff’s attention focused on him. The slight awed look he’d had on his face bled away as worry and teenage mulishness fought with each other. “I.. I don’t.” He blew out another breath, his whole body slumping with dejection. Derek was surprised that even his protective instincts were stirred at the feeling of absolute misery that accompanied the small movement. “Allison... she must have really broken up with me this time. She hasn’t called me, or like, even texted me in two weeks. I guess she didn’t want to be with a werewolf after all.” Scott froze and darted a scared look at Derek.  
  
Sheriff Stilinski caught the look and did roll his eyes. “Oh come on. It’s not like I didn’t know you guys were werewolves. You even have matching jackets.” He tapped his forehead. “Investigative skills, remember?”  
  
Stiles was clearly biting his lip to keep from laughing.  
  
“Interesting. Kid, I’ve seen that girl with you. I’d be very surprised if that was actually the case. But my buddy? He knows all about the Argents. Chris. Victoria. Kate. Gerard. In fact, he knew of _generations_ of Hunters. Who they are and what they hunt. And...” He turned to Derek. “He was pissed that I was asking questions; insisted that I tell him who else I’d asked all this shit about.”  
  
Derek felt a strange flutter in his stomach. He had been too little to really know the particulars, but Laura had talked it over with him. He and Laura had had no secrets from each other and they often liked to talk out the grown-up things that their parents insisted they were too young for. One of those things had been why his mother’s little brother had all of the sudden been banned from all pack business. Oh, his parents had been furious. Derek’s grandfather had been so struck with anger that he had turned right then, his howls unable to hold in his rage. They had _all_ slunk around the mansion, scattering when his grandfather had shown up to feed. Discretion was the better part of valor, after all. Especially when dealing with a pissed-off werewolf.  
  
“Turns out, he had gone into police work to do his part to protect his pack. He’s not the only one either. I guess there’s all sorts of human members of various packs, all working together to keep you guys under the radar. Small things sometimes, such as making a camera that allows the photograph of supernatural beings. I mean, did you guys not think that anyone, _ever_ would be asked for a driver’s license? Want to have a wedding photographer? Baby pictures?” The sheriff shrugged. “That’s how I actually got pictures of your family. He made me copies when I told him that I knew you.”  
  
“You know my uncle Kevin.”  
  
“Indeed I do. Okay so after he freaked out, he made me promise to go to Laura and tell her that I knew. He said the pack needed outsiders to help them occasionally, when shit got so weird that they couldn’t control everything. I couldn’t do that, so... I did this instead.” He held up the folder and offered it to Derek.  
  
Derek took a step forward, than another. It felt like the words were being ripped from him “You’re... the sheriff. You’re not pack. I...I don’t know how to do this.” It cost him something to admit that in front of his pack, but they would taste his honesty and know that he was serious. He could do no less. His uncle had been exiled... and now Derek knew why. Speaking about pack business was anathema. His family would not have understood what uncle Kevin was doing, and would have reacted accordingly. Derek took the folder. he wanted to rip it open and start reading, but also knew that he should probably have privacy for that.  
  
Stilinski rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. Me either. But maybe we can figure it out together.” He waited a beat of silence. “But not tonight. Tonight, I think I need to have a different discussion with my son.” He looked at Stiles, smiling. With all of his teeth. Stiles winced.  
  
“I know that you have things to discuss that neither of us need to know about. Say goodbye, Stiles.”  
  
“Goodbye, Stiles.” Stiles was looking at Derek when he said it. Both his dad and Scott rolled his eyes. It was quiet as they left. The door had barely shut behind them when they all clearly heard the sheriff ask his son,”So... what do you want to tell me about a charge on my gas card... from Portland?” then the start of both of their vehicles and the sound of rubber over asphalt as they drove away.  
  
***  
  
Derek felt like there was a low-grade electrical current under his skin. He’d read the folder, understood what that meant, and now? He just wanted.... he just wanted....  
  
Jesus fucking Christ it had been an eventful few days.  
  
Derek took a deep, settling breath as he jumped, avoiding the warm pool of light from the light pole on the street corner. He landed on Stiles’ roof with a small, almost silent _thump._ He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not, but the memory of Stiles wrapped around him, of Stiles’ willingness and trust to let him bite his finger... to let a _werewolf_ bite his finger...  
  
The last time he had snuck into this room he’d gotten an eyeful, but Derek could tell that Stiles was probably on his computer from the muted glow that he could see through the curtains. He slid the window up and stepped inside, staring at Stiles sitting cross-legged on the bed with his laptop open in front of him. The fact that Stiles was obviously waiting for him threw Derek for a loop.  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“Hello.”  
  
Derek felt a little awkward as he stood there. He wasn’t particularly used to feeling awkward, but since he also wasn’t particularly used to having to _court_ someone, he figured that it was to be expected. Stiles looked up at him, his face weirdly blue in the muted light of the laptop, causing his eyes to glitter.  
  
“It bothers me that I can’t taste your emotions,” Derek blurted.  
  
Stiles jolted, the laptop sliding off his knees and almost sliding onto the floor. Stiles flailed after it, catching it, but overbalancing and falling off the bed in a tangle of legs. Derek couldn’t help the smile that stretched his lips. Stiles stood up like a jack-in-the-box, trying to look like he hadn’t just faceplanted on his floor.  
  
“Well, uh. I was thinking about that. Doing a little research. I mean, there aren’t a lot of ‘werewolf behavior blogs for dummies’ or anything, and there’s a surprising amount of werewolf porn, which yeah okay that surprised me a little bit.” Stiles took a step closer.  
  
Derek felt a muscle in his jaw start to twitch as he told himself to- _not to touch-_  not jerk Stiles closer.  
  
“Uh. I did find one thing though. It was written by an older woman, one of those new agey types, you know? But she wrote that sometimes when an Alpha chose a..” Stiles bit his lip, his face flaming. Derek could almost feel the heat under Stiles’ skin from where he stood across the room. He tightened his fingers into the palms of his hand, feeling the skin sliced by his own fingernails, felt the tingle as they healed almost instantaneously. “Uh.... A mate. That sometimes it negated the ... advantage the Alpha would have over someone they picked. So that they would be. Um. On more equal footing.”  
  
Derek said nothing, watching as Stiles took another step towards him. It shamed him to see that Stiles was almost afraid to; that anything he did might send Stiles running away from him again. Stiles held the computer in front of him, so that it was against his chest, arms crossed protectively over himself as he spoke. Derek couldn’t sense Stiles’ emotions, but he didn’t exactly need to: words halting and nervous, but his body was slowly moving forward, chasing the patch of moonlight that spilled in from the open window.  
  
“So, you asked me why I... left. After you saw me. Uh.” Stiles lifted his chin. “After you saw me jerking off. I need to apologize to you. I’m sure that was all sorts of awkward to have to see.”  
  
Derek felt the bones in his own fingers grind against one another and slowly made himself relax his muscles. He could not speak. He wasn’t sure if he could move.  
  
“Okay so... I promised myself that I would make myself tell you how... uh. Sorry I was. And to thank you for not killing me or something. Even if that lady isn’t right, because ohmigod, mate? Really? Ha! Pretty funny, right? I know we need to work together. Especially if you.. uh. you really think of me as pack.”  
  
Derek snapped. He couldn’t understand why Stiles was apologizing. It was ridiculous.... except for his nervousness and misery at trying to laugh off something that obviously hurt him very much. Stiles thought he needed to _apologize_? Derek couldn’t stay still any longer. He jolted forward, pressing Stiles back against the wall with a loud thud. He took the computer away from him and set it on the desk, not breaking Stiles’ gaze.  
  
“Oh, shit. Please don’t kill me,” Stiles blurted, biting his bottom lip again.  
  
“You really think I want to... kill you?” It cost something for Derek not to just react the way his instincts were screaming at him to do. “Stiles.” He breathed in the fresh, clean scent of him, rubbing his nose into the spot under Stiles’ ear. “You haven’t been paying attention.”  
  
Derek could feel Stiles’ shiver and he stepped closer, his hands resting on Stiles’ narrow hips. “Why would you think that I needed an apology?” He nosed down over the cord of Stiles’ neck, brushing his lips over Stiles’ collarbone.  
  
“Um! Because... you. Uh. Aren’t gay.”  
  
Derek bit him.  
  
Stiles moaned, his knees giving out on him all at once, like a switch had been pulled. “Oh _fuck._ Okay, I might be willing to concede that I might have not had all of the..., ah, God. The pertinent information.”  
  
“Have you ever known me not to go after something that I wanted?” Derek moved his nose over Stiles’ collarbone, inhaling deeply. He trailed his lips over the small indentation of his teeth, tracing his tongue over the marks he’d left there.  
  
Stiles whined, his hands fisting in the leather of Derek’s jacket. He was breathing heavily, sucking in oxygen like he had forgotten how. Derek pulled back slightly, looking down at him. “You looked beautiful like that Stiles. It took everything that I had not to jump in here and... _Christ._ You have no _idea_.”  
  
Stiles dragged his eyelids up, staring up at him with furrowed brows like he didn’t quite believe what Derek said. “You were... just there. I didn’t know if I was dreaming you up or if it was real.” His tongue darted out to lick at dry lips. Derek couldn’t look away from the small sheen, his own blood thick in his ears. Stiles moved one hand up under Derek’s shirt, touching the naked skin of his back. Derek could smell Stiles’ arousal and tilted his hips just slightly so that he could rub against him, his hips juttering at the way Stiles’ eyelids fluttered shut. His mouth dropped open. Derek moved one of his hands down Stiles’ thigh, lifting his leg and holding it up, moving into the space he made.  
  
Stiles’ head hit the wall with another thud. Derek muffled his cry with his lips, kissing his open mouth. Stiles kissed inexpertly, a little too eagerly. Derek pressed his hips tighter into Stiles to hold him in place, moving his hands to cup Stiles’ jaw. He tilted the younger man’s head slightly, sealed their mouths together.  
  
Derek smiled a little when Stiles stopped breathing, kissing him back and forgetting about oxygen all together. The small sound at the doorway had Derek lifting his mouth off and brushing his lips once, twice against Stiles’ before taking a deep, shuddering breath and forcing himself to step back.  
  
The knock on Stiles’ door caused Stiles to freeze, then look up at Derek.  
  
“Hey there! Notice that I’m not actually opening the door here. I’m respecting my own eyeballs and sanity. But, Mr. Hale, if you’re going to visit my son’s bedroom, I would prefer that you do it using the front door. You can respect pack territory, right? This would be mine.”  
  
Derek felt his mouth fall open. Stiles had both of his hands over his mouth, slight snickering escaping from his clasped hands. Derek couldn’t have been more shocked if Stilinski had walked up and goosed him. He’d been absolutely _positive_ that Stiles’ dad hadn’t known that he was here. With his barely-legal son. Of the local Sheriff. In his bedroom.  
  
Well, fuck.

This was awkward. Derek took a rather large step away, trying to glare down at Stiles, but couldn’t make himself quit grinning to do so.  
  
“Oooo-kay then. I’m just going to go to my bedroom and try to forget that the noises I heard never happened. Goodnight, Stiles. Derek.”  
  
His footsteps moved down the hall and Derek rolled his eyes at the way that Stiles had actually stuffed his fist into his mouth, tears leaking from his eyes. Derek just shook his head and chastely kissed the back of Stiles’ hand. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
Stiles moved his fist and took a deep breath, still giggling a little and not bothering to hide it. he pushed the heel of his hand on the outline of his dick and winced, turning away to move awkwardly to his bed. Derek’s entire body went tight again, knowing what Stiles would be doing here in a few minutes.  
  
There was a pointed cough from the direction of Stiles’ dad’s bedroom.  
  
Derek swallowed then forced himself to turn away. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned. Stiles was standing near his bed with a little smirk on his face. His hand was down his underwear. The doorknob gave a screech as Derek's grip mangled it.  
  
“Well. You’ve already seen the whole show.”  
  
The little _shit_ actually winked at him.  
  
“You’d better go. My dad does actually have a lot of guns in the house.”  
  
Derek went, taking a deep breath. Stiles’ dad was standing by his door, eyebrow raised as he took in Derek’s disheveled appearance.  
  
“I meant it about the door. And, you can stay for dinner too if you want.” The sheriff’s face looked like he would rather be offering a mass murdering puppy killer clemency.  
  
Derek nodded dumbly. He had the fleeting thought that he really _really_ hoped that the bulge in his jeans wasn’t obvious.  
  
“Okay then. Lock up before you leave.”  
  
“Yes... sir.”  
  
Derek didn’t miss the little smirk as the sheriff turned to go into his bedroom. He took the stairs double-time, not questioning why the stupid little grin on his face felt so good. It had been a long, _long_ damn time since he felt so... content. Derek shut off the porch light and locked the door as he’d been asked, shutting it quietly behind him.  
  
Derek put his hands in his jacket pockets, shivering a little at the cold as he began to walk down the driveway. The night was quiet. Derek paused, completely distracted by the soft sound of skin on skin, the heavy breaths and little moans that came from Stiles’ room. Derek made a growling sound under his breath and turned back towards the road. There was a crunch of glass under his boot and he paused, tilting his head. The light that normally lit up the middle-class neighborhood’s corner had been broken.  
  
Derek was certain that it had been whole when he leaped up to Stiles’ room.  
  
There was only a second of _wrongness_ on the air before Derek’s instinct took over. In one heartbeat to the next, he had blurred into his wolf, turned, and dropped to a crouch to meet the danger. Derek didn’t know why he couldn’t smell the threat, but he didn’t have time to think of that. Adrenaline flooded his system. He saw a shadow step from across the street, well out of his leaping range. The man was wearing black clothing, holding a crossbow steady. He tilted his head up slightly, and the faint moonlight revealed the face of Gerard Argent.  
  
“How very interesting. I did not know that you were acquainted with the good sheriff.”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
Gerard laughed. “It’s not so much _what_ I want, but _who_.”  
  
Before Derek could open his mouth to respond, the crossbow hit him in the back. He fell to the ground as the wolfsbane hit his system, and something else: he recognized the paralysis of the kanima venom as he lay there, staring at Gerard and the unused crossbow that the hunter still held.  
  
“Very nice, my dear.”  
  
There was the crunch of heels on the concrete and Victoria Argent looked down at him, eyes cold as her lips twisted in a smirk.  
  
“Take him with us. We need to get the other two, and get out of here in case the rest of his mongrels show up.”  
  
Derek tried to get the muscles in his throat to unlock. The paralysis was much, much stronger than when Stiles had kept him floating in the pool.  
  
“Let them.” Victoria laughed, nudging at Derek with one toe, sending him rolling over onto his back. Her laughter floated around him as he looked up at the moon. Derek could smell his own blood and the stink of his own fear as everything inside of him silently screamed, sick as he realized that he was useless. He couldn’t protect his mate like this. He couldn’t even protect himself.  
  
**_Stiles!_**  
  
He must have made some sound because the last thing Derek saw was Victoria as her eyes narrowed. She reversed the grip on the crossbow, swinging it like a bat.  
  
Derek saw stars, then saw nothing as he blacked out, unconscious.


	8. Chapter 8

  
Ch 8-

****Note: we’re firmly in AU-ville now, folks. Pretend that everything after s2e5 hasn’t happened.****

There was a freaking annoying bird singing in the tree outside of his window. Stiles blinked awake with a yawn. _Jeez._ Who had left the window open? He heard the creak of someone shifting their weight on the frame and smiled into his pillow. “I thought my dad said that you could use the door instead of being all creeperwolf?”

“I think I may vomit.” Erica sat on his windowsill, staring down at Stiles like she could cause the bed to burst into flame with only the power of her eyes.

Stiles' eyes popped open and he scrambled back as she climbed into the room, clearly sniffing around. Scott climbed through the window, then Boyd, then Isaac. Erica was tense, nervous as she prowled around the room. Scott looked focused, staring at Stiles, then over to Stiles’ new favorite wall and back to Stiles. Stiles couldn’t really read Boyd, but he didn’t look happy. Isaac looked like he’d just found out that the boogey man was real, and that he liked to eat unicorns for breakfast.

“He’s not here!” Erica sounded pissed. Stiles didn’t even have a chance to react before she was rushing him in a blink of an eye, eyes narrowed and glowing. Scott turned to block Stiles from her attack, taking her furious rush like a pro. Coach would be proud.

“Um. I’m going to go out on a limb here and take a wild guess that you guys didn’t just come over at--” He looked at his clock. “Erk! _eleven o’clock_ in the morning to bring me donuts.”

Erica snarled, the howl barely contained. “See? Derek is missing and he’s cracking jokes! I don’t care what Derek said, this little fuck’s not worth _anything!_ Stiles’ eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, Derek’s ‘missing?’” He heard his voice crack on the last syllable. That was fucking ridiculous. Derek couldn’t be missing.

Erica snarled and Scott pushed her back again. Boyd took a step forward to touch the back of her neck. Boyd was really fucking brave. He was like the _dog whisperer_ of homicidal werewolf rage. Erica visibly controlled herself, dropping down into Stiles’ desk chair, still muttering under her breath.

Stiles climbed out of his bed, glad that he’d taken a shower last night after his.. er. Private time. The last thing he needed right now was the second-hand embarrassment of Scott and the three wolfkateers seeing dried come flaking all over his stomach. This way how hard he’d come was just between him and... him. “Okay can someone please explain to the dumb human how you guys lost your Alpha? How is that even possible?”

Boyd’s deep voice was dark with rage barely held in check. “You and your father left. Derek said he had some business to take care of with you--”

“Yeah we figured that was just code for bending you over a table,” Isaac butted in, grinning nastily.

Both Stiles and Scott winced. Erica’s gaze narrowed. Without thinking about it, Boyd’s hand slid against the back of her neck again, petting her under the wild mane of her hair. He continued as though Isaac hadn’t spoken. “--and he did not come back. His camaro is still at the warehouse.”

Stiles blinked, his eyes narrowing onto his hips. “I thought you guys were supposed to be learning to track during the last full moon! Well, track then! We have to _find him_!”

Boyd’s brown eyes held a ring of yellow around them. Stiles swallowed hard, his panic starting to make it hard for him to breathe. But surely it was too soon to panic, right? Derek had probably just gone to .... no. Stiles couldn’t think of anything that Derek would have to do that would take him away from his pack. “I’m just gonna throw this out there... maybe instead of glaring at me with your glowy eyes of doom one of the _werewolves_ in the room could begin to track him? I mean he found me when I was miles away. I know he left here around eleven last night. You should probably start from my front door--”

His phone beeped, playing Rue’s song from the _Hunger Games_.

Scott jolted, then looked at Stiles like he’d just stabbed him.

“What? I didn’t make her call me! And for your information, her other ring tone choice was _Shot In the Dark_ and _clearly_ Rue’s whistle is a better choi--”

His phone rang again, Allison’s ring-tone loud in the quiet room. Stiles ran his hand over the top of his head, frustrated. Allison was a nice person and all, but he didn’t have time for this. If Derek was really missing, then...

“Stiles? Oh. Thank god. I tried to call Scott but his phone just kept going to voicemail. You.. I have to tell you something, okay? But you have to promise not to tell Derek.”

Stiles didn’t imagine the low sound of rage coming out of his throat. “What did you do to Derek, Allison?” Stiles jerked his gaze up to meet Scott’s, who was staring at him, shocked.

“What are you talking about? I haven’t _seen_ Derek in two weeks.You. You said I could always come to you for help.”

Allison's whisper made the guilt that was swimming in his throat taste even more bitter. Stiles had to think for a minute. He heard Derek’s name and.. why did he overreact? Things were happening too quickly for him to follow. He could _feel_ the energy in the room as three of the four wolves fought their instinct to change. He knew all of them could clearly hear his phone conversation with Allison. Stiles pinched the top of his nose, turning to look at Boyd. “Did you guys look for him, or did you come right here to peek in my window?” Boyd looked slightly sheepish. Stiles frowned, his mind whirling quickly. “You and Erica go and see what you can find out. Start from my front door and fan out. Go.” They stood there, staring. “Go!!” Stiles didn’t recognize his own voice. Something was off. His body felt overly-sensitive, like there was a low-grade current running just under the surface of his skin. Stiles felt like if someone would hit him with something metal he’d vibrate like a tuning fork. He was kind of surprised when they left, but it helped with the level of tension in the room.

He took a shaky breath and focused back on the phone.

“Allison. We’re dealing with kind of a crisis here ourselves. Where are you? Scott can come and get you.”

“I swear to god, Stilinski. Sometimes, you have the mental acuity of a slug.”

_“Lydia?!”_

“Idiot. Look, Let me catch you up. I’ll use small words. Allison’s been keeping us safe. She just found out her dad’s missing, and she can’t reach that _other_ idiot, McCall. We’re having our own issues here, so whatever you just said that made her smell like you broke her, you better get the hell over it because she’s going to be at your place in ten minutes.”

Lydia hung up before Stiles could completely process what just happened. He tapped his phone against his cheek thoughtfully. Wait. “I thought you said Allison was out at some survivalists camp.”

“That’s what her text said.” Scott sounded mulish, still pissed that his girlfriend had called Stiles for help, instead of him.

“Her _text_? You haven’t actually spoken with her?”

Scott’s eyes widened as he fumbled for his phone, growling a little when he saw that it was completely dead. Stiles just shook his head. He opened his mouth to tell Scott that the phone charger was actually an important part of the whole cell phone thing when Scott and Isaac threw their heads up as though they had heard something. Stiles didn’t even have time to _blink_ before Boyd and Erica were back, both wolfed out.

Stiles didn’t even pause to think about what that actually said about his life- that two werewolves in his bedroom didn’t even faze him.

“He’s hurt. His blood is on the grass. There’s wolfsbane mixed in with it. And...”

Boyd’s eyes flashed, feral. “The kanima. He reeks of the kanima.”

Stiles felt like he’d been punched. He reeled; the words ‘his blood is on the grass’ sounding very loud in his head. He didn’t even react when Erica snarled, her hand around his throat, squeezing. “ _You!_ If he hadn’t been so _obsessed_ with you...” Stiles dragged his eyes open, staring up at her tear-filled, furious eyes from only inches away.

“Erica!” Both Boyd and Scott flanked her, Scott’s hand on her wrist, Boyd’s on her bicep.

“Stupid, _worthless_...” She spat. “If you weren’t human, you would have known! You would have _heard_! It was right outside your fucking window!”

Stiles felt his eyes swim with tears. He was getting a little light-headed. He wasn’t sure if that was from Erica being right _oh god she’s right she’s right it’s my faultmyfaultmine_ ...or the lack of oxygen to his brain.

“Erica.”

Isaac just said her name, gently and like that her grip was gone. Erica threw Stiles with a disgusted sound and turned away from them, burrowing into Isaac’s chest.

It occurred to Stiles then as he staggered against his bed, that they were all completely freaked out at not having Derek at their fingertips. Well, he’d known that, of course, but watching Erica take comfort from Isaac, seeing Boyd calm her with just a touch, it suddenly clicked to him just what being pack meant. These three had hardly known each other a month ago. In that small amount of time they’d grown close- closer than siblings or friends.

Isaac was pretty quiet when called to heel by Derek, although Stiles had the feeling that he could probably be one _evil_ motherfucker if he let himself. Behind those springy curls lurked the black heart of a sociopath. Derek reined all that in, giving him someone... several someones to care about.

Boyd was so loyal to the other two that he acted for them, protected and helped them without thinking about it. Not bad for someone who had pretty much been completely mute since he’d transferred to Beacon Hills High School.

Erica hated him because in her eyes Stiles wasn’t good enough for Derek. (Stiles kind of had to agree with her, but that was another story.) If Stiles could shove his squirming jealousy away for awhile, he could even understand her point of view. She had a pack; Derek and Boyd and Isaac who had gone from being everything to her to what had to look like Derek abandoning them. He’d left them _on a full moon_ , for Christ's sake. To save Stiles. She’d probably thought that Derek had turned her to... to keep her. Because he wanted her. Then suddenly he was backing Stiles into walls. It had to be a little like Stiles had felt when Scott had pretty much abandoned him for Allison, only without the fifteen years of friendship on top of it.

Stiles sucked in a deep breath. Then another. Scott was staring at Erica and Isaac with a strange look on his face, like he too just realized what he was missing by insisting on staying on the fringes of Derek’s pack.

Scott turned, his whole body tense for a second. “She’s here!”

Stiles nodded, turning to pull up a pair of jeans over his boxers, just now realizing that he’d been barely dressed. Well, having a beautiful girl manhandle him didn’t even register on his radar. Guess that pretty much answered the whole curious question. “Go let her in.”

Scott ran downstairs, and Stiles zipped up his jeans. “You guys can smell when someone’s lying right?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Both Erica and Isaac looked over at Boyd like he was crazy. He shrugged. “I can’t smell when _you’re_ lying anymore. It’s like your emotions are completely hidden.That or all the Derek-scent is covering it up.”

“Weird. That’s what Derek said.Okay so you let me know if Allison is lying or not. I don’t think she would, but... come on. There’s more room downstairs.” Stiles grabbed a shirt, his phone, keys and wallet and looked around for a clean pair of socks. There was probably some in the laundry basket downstairs.

Stiles took the stairs two at a time, the other three following him. Which was nice, really given that they could have just jumped down if they wanted to.

He wasn’t even shocked to see Allison and Scott making out like someone had super glued them together... which to be fair Stiles had only done once. Which was... not the point.

“Okay. So talk.”

Scott stared at Stiles like he’d never seen him before. “Jeez. You sound like Derek.”

Stiles whirled, pissed. “Yeah? Well everyone keeps standing around waiting for someone else to tell them what the fuck to do!” He took a step forward. “You don’t seem to care that for Derek to be missing like this there has to be something really, seriously fucked up!”

Scott’s eyes went wide with hurt. Stiles huffed a breath, and bent, looking for some goddamn socks.He hadn’t done laundry in two weeks. He was lucky he _had_ any damn socks.

When Allison spoke, it was tentative, like she knew that something was wrong, but she didn’t quite know what. “Oh. Um. Well...” She trailed off. Stiles looked up impatiently from where he was tying his shoes to see that she was crying silently. “I know that I don’t know him as well as you guys do. I’m sorry that Derek is gone, but so is my _dad_ and my grandpa’s gone _crazy_ and...

Stiles felt like a dick. He forced himself to take a calming breath and got up to get Allison a bottle of water. Scott was crouched next to where she sat at his kitchen table, looking both enraged and like she was tearing out his heart. It was a good look on him.

“Here. I’m sorry. Look, take a deep breath and tell us what’s going on. We’ve had kind of a crazy few days ourselves.” Allison sniffed wetly and wiped her nose with her sleeve, which was so disgusting that Stiles kind of loved her a little for doing it.

“Derek saved me from dying,” he blurted. “The kanima bite. I was.. it was bad. I don’t mean to be a dick, but... I can’t let him be hurt, Allison. I have to help him.”

She laughed. “Kanimas. Oh my god, do I know more about them than anything, ever. But let me start at the beginning, or nothin’s gonna make any sense.” She took another sip of the water. Stiles watched Boyd walk around to the other side of the kitchen. Boyd nodded and Stiles knew that his human lie-detector werewolf was ready.

Scott gave him a completely, utterly filthy look. Well, fuck him. She was an Argent. A nice girl, but there were only so many people that could have taken an Alpha werewolf by surprise, and her family just happened to lead the pack. So to speak.

“As soon as school got out, my grandpa went all--. Well. He made my Aunt Kate look well-adjusted. We went on a family hunt for another type of creature, up in Portland.” Stiles jumped, goosebumps breaking out over his skin. “We couldn’t find it though. I was in a hotel room, and... well.” Allison darted a quick look at Scott. “I was gonna try to get you online. My grandpa took my phone, so.. I was kind of stuck. Bored.”

Stiles tried not to grin at the twin bright-red blushes that covered both Scott and Allison cheeks. Yeah. He could just guess what they got up to online. He found himself meeting Boyd’s gaze, who was also looking faintly amused.

Hell, even hardened serial killers would find these two cute.

“Then my grandpa started yelling at my dad. The two of them were staying in an adjoining room, and it was.. pretty loud. My dad was furious that grandpa wasn’t sticking to the code. He kept repeating something about it being after the full moon and that ‘She’s pregnant! You can’t kill a pregnant woman in cold blood!’ and grandpa kept yelling that they had to kill them. My mom... she. She stood up and went through the connecting door.”

Allison’s voice dropped to a pained sounding whisper. She was staring at the floor, lost in whatever she was seeing playing out in her head. Scott actually whined a little in the back of his throat and pressed closer to her, stroking her hair and down her back. Stiles honestly didn’t think that Alison knew he was there.

“There was more shouting. And... a gunshot. I just.. I just froze.”

Stiles could feel the impatience from the Isaac and Erica and gestured that they should go with his hand. They knew not to do anything that they couldn’t handle by themselves. He hoped.

“Then what happened?” Stiles spoke as gently as he could. Alison seemed to jump in her seat. More tears spilled from her eyes as she finished. “My mom and my grandpa came back into the room, started throwing our stuff in the car. I.. I tried to fight them but I couldn’t. My mom just kept jerking my hair around, and I couldn’t get away. I looked back once, and my dad was struggling to get .. he yelled for me. He was bleeding and he yelled for me. One of the other hunters ran towards him and I saw him lurch to his feet, but my grandpa was yelling at him. “Don’t kill him. We need him.” and then my mom pulled me in the car and we .. we drove off.”

“Wait. So your dad was taken by your crazy-ass family and Derek shows up missing? That _can’t_ be a coincidence.”

Alison took a drink of her water and gave him a dirty look. “Of course it’s not.”

“How did you get away?” Boyd sounded suspicious, and Stiles got it, really. It was hard not to. But he really, honestly didn’t think that Allison would lie about something like this. She seemed really close to her dad, and was scared to death about him being hurt.

Stiles could relate, completely.

“I stole my mom’s car. Speaking of which, we need to go. I can’t stay here, Lydia and Jackson are stuck there until I get back.”

Stiles did that thing again where he tried to rewind his brain back to the part that made sense.

“My grandpa can be anywhere. You have to watch him, he’s... he’s not right. He’s obsessed about the kanima, Stiles. That’s why I couldn’t let him find Lydia. She was.. It... they... _fuck_!” She scrubbed her hand over her face in frustration.

Stiles eyebrows rose. Allison was more of a ‘oh golly’ type a girl. He thought that he could count the number of times she’d sworn in his presence on one hand

“Lydia said that you guys would help us find my dad. Before it’s too late. _Please_ , Stiles.”

He didn’t need Scott’s yellow eyes to convince him. Stiles was nodding before she finished the last syllable. “Lydia said that you have been hiding them?” He made his voice a question.

***

Stiles didn’t know exactly how he was elected as field trip captain, but he was afraid that if Erica and Scott didn’t shut up he really was going to pull this car over and smack their heads together. And that would only get him broken into little pieces.

“Erica! For the _third_ time, the help of two _other_ shapeshifters can only help us. Allison said her grandfather is hunting kanima like he gets a buy-one-get-one award, right? So if we stick close by them, then eventually we’ll run into the Argents.” Scott didn't try to hide the smug look he gave her.

“And _Scott_. No. I do not trust Allison completely. I’m not stupid. She would never do anything to hurt you, but her family seems to have a really low tolerance for individual thinking. If she got away from Grandpa Crazypants then you _have_ to assume that he knows how to find her. So no. I don’t think we’re walking into a trap, but one can be around there just waiting for us to stumble onto it.” By the end Stiles was speaking through gritted teeth.

He took a heaving breath and saw Allison’s car turn left onto a quiet neighborhood street. Rue had barely whistled before Scott had snatched Stiles’ phone. “She texted to be careful and to park next to her in the garage.”

“Okay.” The problem with his jeep is every cop for twenty miles knew exactly who drove it. It would be great to have some sort of stealth vehicle, like the Batmobile. The wolfmobile? He pulled beside her and listened to the garage door closing, tapping a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel cover. Vaguely he heard Erica slide out of the car. Stiles was in way over his head. He knew this, but didn’t know what the fuck else to do. A bunch of kids- well, okay, Four werewolves, two kanima, and two humans were supposed to go up against the _Argents_? The same people who had been hunting shapeshifters for _hundreds of years?_ Stiles felt his heart-rate skyrocket as he bent over, resting his head on his steering wheel for just a second.

He just.. he just needed a second.

“You know that Derek went crazy when he got your phone call, right?” Scott’s gentle voice was low, uncertain, like he wasn’t sure if he should be saying anything. Stiles jumped. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t realized anyone was still in the vehicle with him. “What?”

“I tried to go after you, but Derek went _apeshit_ , man. We could have traced your phone to find you, y’know? Danny is like a freaking genius at that stuff. He had to be the one to find you. He was on the road in like three minutes. He barely waited for Boyd to pack him some clothes and stuff.” There was hurt there, under Scott’s voice. Hurt that Stiles hadn’t called _him_.

“Derek told me that you told him to go find me.” Scott snorted. “Uh, no. He practically clawed over my back to get out the door to start tracking you. I’m just saying that... whatever it is with you two... it seems pretty strong.” Stiles’ cheeks went nuclear as he remembered their kiss from last night. Scott flicked the mark Derek had left at the bottom of his neck and Stiles squeaked, his blush hot enough that he was faintly sure that his brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “On both sides, man.”

“Uh.”

Scott smirked. “See you inside.”

Stiles followed his friend inside, feeling a lot better. Once he found a certain sourwolf though, he was definitely going to mention that it just wasn’t good manners to lie to your prospective mate... thingy. Boyfriend? Well, whatever they were. Lying was a terrible way to start a relationship.

Scott tensed on the stairs that led up from the garage to the main level of the house, then bolted forward so quickly that the door almost slammed Stiles in the face. Isaac was crouched in the middle of the floor, staring at Jackson. Jackson was in mid-formation, scales bleeding out from his skin as he backed up against the wall. He kept shaking his head, almost frantically, looking around for help.

One tiny part of Stiles’ mind noticed that Boyd was holding Lydia, whose eyes had gone a cold, reptilian yellow. Erica had her claws out and was holding Allison, grinning a little evilly. Scott snarled and Erica mimed clawing Allison’s face open, and Scott froze, growling low in his throat.

“What the fuck is going _on_?!” Stiles’ scream was a little shrill. He was running before he thought about it, flinging himself between the werewolf and Jackson.

Isaac’s voice was low, seemingly ripped from his chest as he continued speaking, like he hadn’t even noticed Stiles’ interruption.

“--wasn’t much, but he was my _dad_. You just gutted him, like he was a fucking piece of... meat!”

Stiles flailed his arms around, feeling Jackson almost pressing into his back, trembling a little. Jackson couldn’t go back any further, and was darting his gaze around, trying to find an escape. “Isaac! _No!_ “Come on, calm down a little." Isaac snapped him like a pissed-off dog. "Or, you know, a lot.”

Isaac snarled, saliva dripping from his teeth. Jackson kept shaking his head, looking like he was fighting the change, trying to control himself but losing his shit completely as terror fought with instinct.

“ _Isaac!_ ” Stiles lunged forward and grabbed his shoulders, trying to make his voice powerful and less like he was about to piss himself. He heard Allison’s gasp but Isaac’s glowing eyes were focused on his. “You know that I’m not lying. It couldn’t have been Jackson, man. He was at the lacrosse game. He scored like five million goals. He even made Scott look like a loser. I mean I get the growly rage thing you have going right now man. I think everyone that knows him wants to kick Jackson in the balls a time or two. Or you know, twelve.” He tightened his hands on Isaac’s shoulders, moving them down his arms a little. “I promise you, man. It wasn’t him. And it couldn’t have been Lydia, either. It had to have been the other one.”

Isaac’s claws went back into his body, his teeth becoming human as he changed back. Stiles let go of his shoulders immediately.

There was an “Ooph!” of sound and Lydia stalked forward from where she had clearly just kneed Boyd in the balls. She flipped her hair back and ran to Jackson who had fallen to the floor, still struggling not to change into the kanima. Lydia was almost petting him; stroking his arms and back as he calmed down.

The fact that Stiles felt nothing at the way she pulled Jackson into her arms, nuzzling into his neck and murmuring to him as he made a pain-filled gasping sound told him more than anything that he really, truly didn’t love Lydia Martin anymore. A month ago, he would have felt like they were both gouging out his heart with a spork.

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, looking around at the faces of the people in the room. Scott had moved over to Allison and was holding her in his arms as they stared at him, matching looks of shock on their faces. Boyd and Erica looked like ... their expressions looked a lot more like respect. Isaac was looking at him like he hung the moon. Stiles’ throat tightened. He took a deep breath. He didn’t quite have the guts to do that thing that Derek did when one of his pack had pleased him, but Isaac was just standing there, staring at him, and all at once Stiles realized that he had his throat barred to him in submission.

On auto-pilot, Stiles reached out and brushed two fingertips down Isaac’s neck. Isaac’s whole body trembled.

“I’m sorry.”

Fucking fuck. His _life_.

“I know, Isaac. It’s okay. But we need them if we’re gonna find Derek. Just ... try to...” Stiles voice trailed off as he realized he had no idea what the hell to say. Isaac nodded though and walked back to where Erica and Boyd stood. Stiles watched as they all touched each other, probably not even realizing that they were doing it. His mind continued to compare them to puppies: whatever Isaac had gone through in his life before being bitten (and it wasn’t hard to figure out, really but not really his place to sort of casually bring it up in conversation) made him constantly search out and seek protection from his other pack mates. Boyd and Erica weren’t quite as obvious, of course. But, they relied on Derek just as much as Derek relied on all of them.

Stiles bit his lip, wondering just exactly when he started feeling like he needed to protect them, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there :) 
> 
> Thanks for still reading. 
> 
> I don't have many tumblr followers that are also Teen Wolf fans, so if you swing that way, go ahead and add me. :) (http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Next update by Friday!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if this chapter will show up in the Ao3 tags or not. :( I hope so! I guess chapter 8 only showed up for some people.

It felt like days had passed since they first figured out that Derek was missing, but according to Stiles’ phone it had only been about forty-five minutes. Lydia and Jackson were tangled up together in the living room, while Stiles, Allison, and the wolves all sat around the table, trying to come up with a plan.  
  
A plan that was a little better than Allison calling Grandpa Crazypants and saying ‘hey! we want to totally talk to you in a nonviolent way. Can we meet at Hooters or something?’, anyway.  
  
Stiles knew; _knew_ that he had to get this shit done, but the problem was his brain was... just wasn’t cooperating. He knew that every second that they waited Derek was probably being tortured. Hell, these were the people who had _shot Allison’s father._. Just the idea of him bleeding out, unable to heal himself because of the fucking wolfsbane, paralyzed from the kanin...  
  
“Mother fucking fuckery fucking _fuck!_ ” Stiles tripped over his own feet and almost faceplanted in his haste to get to the living room. “Lydia! Jackson!” They looked up at him, their movements almost perfectly synched. It was kind of creepy. They even _blinked_ at the same time.  
  
“What, Stilinski? You finally figure out that we can help you?”  
  
“I’m a little slow sometimes. Why didn’t you say anything?”  
  
Lydia cocked her head to the side. “Why should we? Because you’re so forthcoming with all...” She waved her hand around towards the kitchen, “all that stuff?”  
  
“That’s fair. What if I were to tell you that it was almost the three of us cuddling here on the couch?”  
  
Jackson stilled, leaning forward to sniff him. Stiles turned and showed him the healing mark on his neck. “Yeah. It almost killed me. I was infected ... you know the night you wanted me to meet you in the woods? I think your buddy wanted another ... uh. friend.”  
  
Lydia looked at him, her large hazel eyes assessing. “That would explain why I felt like I _had_ to find you. Why I couldn’t stop searching you out. Until the full moon and... “ Her gaze flicked to Jackson, softened. “Well. I’m probably not going to be spending the night with you anymore.”  
  
Stiles tried very hard not to react at the way he could feel five gazes practically _burning_ into his back.  
  
“But.. if you want to still study together I think I’d be okay with that.”  
  
Stiles fluttered his eyelashes, clutching his chest. “Dear Diary. Today is the day that Lydia Martin admitted that she loves me for my massively amazing brain.” He had to smile. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions. And just for the record,” Stiles raised his voice, knowing that they would all hear him anyway, “We cried together then she painted my toenails.We had hair-braiding scheduled for next Tuesday, but, well. you know. Stuff.”  
  
Lydia nodded, seemingly perfectly content just lying back against Jackson’s chest, idly running her nails up and down his thigh. Stiles was used to PDA-overload from these two, but this.. it was so different; like the pack but completely focused on each other, like they couldn’t bear to be apart for even a little while. The memory of the professor clutching the woman’s hand while they were in the coffee shop popped into Stiles’ head, and he understood.  
  
“So you didn’t die?”  
  
“No.” He spread out his hands and forced a smile. Stiles still couldn’t remember that night very well. What he did remember was terrifying. And personal. He was fine with Lydia and Jackson (okay. he was fine with Lydia. Jackson he tolerated), but he didn’t particularly feel like sharing with them. It felt weird, like he needed to talk about the whole night with Derek first. Not for permission, but just so... Stiles could know what happened. So Derek could fill in the holes.  
  
“Huh. I don’t remember what happened. I’ve been blacking out. Thought it was the partying, so I tried to tone it down. One minute I’m on the field, by myself and the next I’m in the middle of the fucking woods.” Jackson sucked in a breath. “I felt... like I was searching. Like I needed something. Like I’d lost something and couldn’t find it. Figures that I had it all the time, totally under my nose.”  
  
Allison’s “Awww” from the kitchen made Lydia’s lips twitch. Stiles was kind of blown away. A whole conversation without Jackson being a complete and total tool. And he sounded utterly besotted, which Stiles wasn’t gonna lie... it was completely adorable.  
  
Lydia took up the story while Jackson shut his eyes, just slowly rubbing his cheek over the top of her hair. “I don’t know who turned us, Stiles. I mean, I thought they would stick around. Maybe he knew that we weren’t right for them. Maybe that’s why he went after you?”  
  
_He?!_ “He?!”  
  
“Well it could be a she I guess. You remember how ... freaked out I was? That night in your room?”  
  
Stiles just happened to be looking at Jackson’s face and caught the bright yellow flash of reptilian eyes that he either couldn’t or wouldn’t control as he thought of his mate in bed with Stiles. Stiles moved back slightly, trying not to be completely obvious about it. Jackson’s smirk was smug.  
  
Aaaand _there_ was the real Jackson. Stiles knew he had to be in there somewhere.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Well, I changed a few nights later. I was... Let’s just say it was a nice surprise for the both of us.”  
  
“You don’t feel... like connected to the one that made you?”  
  
Lydia and Jackson both looked at each other, turned back to Stiles and shrugged in sync again. “Not particularly. I have some questions, but it’s not like you guys. Allison filled us in by the way.”  
  
Jeez, what was up with Scott and Allison telling the non-werewolves about all the craziness that was Beacon Hills? Next, they’d be shooting a tv show based on teenagers being werewolves.  
  
Stiles was thinking, furiously. “Hey Boyd. Can you come here a second?” The chair scraped against the table as he moved, and Boyd’s slow, measured steps arrived in the room a few seconds later. “You said that you scented the kanima from before, right?”  
  
“Yes. It’s not these two, or you wouldn't have been able to talk Isaac down from ripping out that one’s throat.”  
  
Yeah about that. Him standing between two shapeshifters. Stiles had an image in his head of Derek’s face when he found out, and the thought both made him want to laugh and hit something. Definitely something Stiles needed to examine in detail later. Now was not the time. They had to get this show on the road. He felt like they were just on the edge... on the very cusp of something import---  
  
“Stiles! Oh darn it, _Stiles_!” Stiles was up and turning towards Allison between one breath and the next. “I think I know where they have to be. My family has two other places. They’re both out in the woods, and not as close to town. Well one is near the preserve, but the other is kind of off the beaten path. My dad used to take me out there to practice hunting, and we’d stay overnight.” Allison’s voice cracked when she mentioned her dad, but she didn’t cry. Which is probably a good thing. Scott looked like he was ready to cry for both of them. “The other place I’ve only been to once. Uh. It’s not easy to get to, so I don’t know if I can write out directions. I don’t remember the address.”  
  
Stiles had to bite his tongue so that he wouldn’t make Unplottable joke. There was a place and time for Harry Potter, but this was not that time.  
  
Isaac spoke up from where he’d been doodling little figure-eights onto the wood of the table with his finger. “So we break up into two groups.”  
  
Stiles stared at him. “Okay.” He kept looking around the room, trying to figure out how to divvy everyone up so that they could use a mix of shapeshifter strength. “Scott and Allison. Erica you go with them.”  
  
“What about us?” Lydia was suddenly just _there_ , looking at Stiles with an intense, hazel stare. “You can’t possibly think that you’re going to leave us out of this.”  
  
Allison gave Stiles her mini-version of the creepy Argent stare, and Stiles started to rethink his leadership abilities. “Lydia. If you want to go, fine. Great. You two can only make us stronger. But you’ll have to split up. Erica on second thought, you’re with me. Boyd and Isaac, you two decide who’s going with Scott.”  
  
“Well, aren’t we the little bossy human.” Erica smirked, her eyes cold.  
  
“I will.” Boyd volunteered himself.  
  
“Jackson, you and Scott at least don’t completely hate each other. You should go with him. I’ll stay with Stiles.” Lydia tied her hair back. “Besides, Allison is my best friend. I don’t trust any of these other idiots to keep her safe.”  
  
Stiles watched Jackson’s jaw tighten as he stared at his girlfriend. He nodded once. As he walked by her into the small kitchen he slid his hand across the small of her back, and it hit Stiles then, how much they both needed this. They had spent a lot of time making each other miserable. Now though, it looked like the shift had forced them out of all the petty bullshit, and focused them on how important they were to each other, and for a second the jealousy was so strong that Stiles was afraid he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Stiles had another whole-body memory of the feel of Derek against him, and oh, _fuck_ how  did he want that.  
  
“Okay. I can write out the directions for you. I guess we keep it simple. Go, find out if they’re being kept there, then call the others. _Nobody_ goes in by themselves. The eight of us can handle a lot more than half of us.”  
  
She didn’t say “handle her grandpa and mom,” but it was pretty clear what she meant. Allison scribbled something on a paper. Stiles stared down at it. The safehouse wasn’t actually that far from Derek’s place, and that itself just seemed completely fucked up. “The code is 23833828326.”  
  
Stiles paused, frowning as Allison rattled off the numbers. “A phone keypad?”  
  
Allison nodded.  
  
“Nice.”  
  
“Yeah, they keep the same code for all the houses. Okay are we going? Scott? Jackson? Boyd?”  
  
“Am I missing something?” Scott looked from his girlfriend to Stiles and back.  
  
“Allison can explain it to you. Good luck, guys. And don’t forget... call and we’ll go in together.” Stiles took a deep breath and looked at Lydia, Erica and Isaac. Telling himself not to be nervous was useless when surrounded by three shapeshifters, but he couldn’t seem to help the spurt of emotion. “I guess I’m driving? Avengers, assemble!’ Stiles looked around but only Isaac’s lips twitched. He sighed again.  
  
“Let’s go find Derek.”  
  
  
***  
  
The cabin looked like any of the hundreds scattered around the woods in and outside of Beacon Hills. It was two stories and looked a little on the broken-down side. It was set fairly far back from the road, up on a little hill. When he pulled up as far as he could, Stiles turned off the engine. The windows of his jeep had fogged up a little, so Stiles had to lean forward and clear the windshield with a swipe of his hand. The small squeak of his skin against the window even sounded ominous.  
  
“This looks like somewhere that the folks’d go for a vacation. We should just drive over where Allison is.” Erica was almost vibrating with nervous energy as she flounced back in the backseat. “This is _bullshit_.”  
  
Stiles made sure his voice was completely calm when he replied. “You can go if you want. But if you’re going to stick with us, then keep your mouth shut and your stupid ears open.” Erica had crowded him up against his door before he finished talking, and all at once Stiles was just sick of it.  
  
He pushed her back, two hands on her narrow shoulders.  
  
“Keep your hands off of me.” He bit his lip to keep the flow of words behind his teeth. There wasn’t time for this. “You’re making so much noise that the fucking Argents could troop up behind us and we’d never know. Now I _mean_ it. Keep your fucking mouth shut and stow the attitude. Derek is my priority right now. Not your goddamn ego.”  
  
Stiles jerked his arm out of her grip and pushed his door open, breathing heavily. Lydia was looking at him with a small smirk on her face. Stiles gave her a look, but she just shrugged, shaking her head. Isaac looked like he was trying to make himself as small a target as possible in the back corner of the backseat of the jeep.  
  
“Well?”  
  
Erica slid out of the jeep with careful grace, Lydia and Isaac following behind them a half a second later. Stiles had just turned to speak when he saw the three shapeshifters freeze. All of them mirrored each other’s poses, every muscle tensed, head lifted to scent the air.  
  
“He’s been here.” Erica growled. She tossed her head and was moving, stalking towards the cabin as she scented the ground.  
  
“Erica! Come _on_ we can’t just leave him! Wait for us, okay!” Isaac’s yell was just as loud as Erica’s had been. Stiles rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath. “I guess Derek didn’t get to the stealthy part of their training.”  
  
Lydia grabbed his arm as he began to walk. “Wait. My... the freak that made me a giant lizard is here. Stiles, maybe you should stay...”  
  
“No _fucking_ way!” Fury was like something bright in his throat. No way were they just going to send him to the car.  
  
“It’s dangerous. It’s .. killed.., Stiles.”  
  
“Yeah? Well so have I.” Okay, he helped Jackson throw molotov cocktails, but he totally _would_ have killed Peter Hale if he could have. “Besides. If I don’t keep you safe, Jackson will kill me.”  
  
Stiles couldn’t hide the little grin on his face when Lydia smacked him on the back of his head. Isaac and Erica had gone around the house, to peek in windows or something, so it was up to them to use the door.  
  
“Do we knock?”  
  
“No we do _not_. I can smell blood, Stiles.” Lydia sounded a little freaked out. Stiles took a deep breath and texted Allison.  
**They’ve been here. Chking things out.**  
  
His skin was tingling again- this time with nerves.  
  
“No one’s here. I can’t hear anyone inside.” Erica sounded like she was ready to bite something out of pure frustration. “But I know he’s here. I know what my alpha smells like, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles nodded. “Okay then. Let’s... go.”  
  
It probably looked funny the way the four of them opened the door, wincing at the creak, with just their four heads poking through. There wasn’t anyone standing there with a shotgun leveled at their faces, which was a bonus. Stiles pushed the door the rest of the way open and the four of them stood in the main room. It was set up like an open living room, with a fireplace at one end and a huge picture window at the other. The kitchen was small. There were two closed doors at the far end of the room, one on each side of the small half-staircase.  
  
“Guys look.” Lydia pointed. Through the thin layer of dust drag marks were perfectly discernible. They led from where the four teenagers were standing, over a large carpet, and disappeared by the staircase.  
  
“Okay. Isaac and Lydia, you two have the best noses. _Both_ of you check out the upstairs. Yell if you sense _anything_."

The two leaped across the carpet, hardly touching the floor. He heard them going upstairs. Erica walked over to the closed door on the left and the floor creaked. It made Stiles brow scrunch up. The tingly feeling was sharper now. Stiles had that feeling he got right before he and Derek were attacked in the woods. Erica made a disgusted sound when the first door revealed nothing but a linen closet.  
  
It was nothing that he could put his finger on, but it was strong enough that Stiles frowned, looking down at his phone. Allison hadn’t texted back. Before he could change his mind, Stiles went ahead and texted his dad.

  
**Dad. Need ur help. Derek’s missing. Went to**  
  
The feeling intensified as Erica stepped around a small table, reached out for the second door handle. Stiles didn’t have time to speak before she touched it.The door slammed open and Stiles was so startled that he dropped his phone. It landed on the floor with a loud clatter. There was a glint of barbed wire in the light from the picture window, a flash of metal, as the trap snapped quickly, causing Erica to shriek as it took her by complete surprise. It wrapped itself around her middle and her feet, sending her flipping upside down, so that he was hanging by her feet from the large ceiling.  
  
Isaac and Lydia landed with a thump, both reaching out for Erica even as they jumped.  
  
“Wait! Don’t touch it!” The visual of Laura Hale, sliced completely in half was raw in Stiles’ head as he took a half step forward. Erica’s scream cut off in mid-yell. The wire had wrapped so solidly around her that it looked like some sort of living vine. This wasn’t some trap used to waylay someone. This was meant to take out an enemy.  
  
“The poison! Don’t touch anything!” Lydia’s voice was tense as she spoke. “I can smell it. It’s everywhere.”  
Isaac was whining in the back of his throat, looking like he didn’t know where to touch first.  
  
Erica bled profusely as the wire cut into her. The toxin worked to keep her still, otherwise she would have only hurt herself worse; the barbed wire sliding into her skin like a knife through butter, her healing ability healing _around_ the wounds, which would only cut her again as the healing flesh pushed the wire out, then healed around it again. She was making a horrible gurgling sound as she tried to suck in breath, and Stiles was terrified that she was choking on her own blood.  
  
“Isaac! Get the carpet. Help me!” Stiles heard his phone hit the wall with a clatter as he moved backwards, kicking it with his foot. “Lydia, you guys are going to have to break the wire. Wrap her in this so that you don’t touch her.” Stiles whipped back the carpet. The floor squeaked alarmingly and both Isaac and Stiles looked down at the trap door that waited there, looking completely innocuous. Stiles could put two and two together really goddamn well, thanks. Smell of kanima and Derek? No one in the top part of the house? Creepy fucking door to the underworld?  
  
Stiles didn’t trust it. Hell, Erica was turned into a shishkabob by a fucking _door handle_. Isaac yanked the carpet into his hands. Lydia sneezed at the small cloud of dust and Stiles jerked his head towards her. “Lydia, you might be immune to the poison, but-- oh _fuck_.”  
  
Both Isaac and Lydia turned to stare at him, then turned to stare at the doorway that Stiles was staring at, completely slack jawed.  
  
“Oh shit. Oh shit oh _shit_ oh--”  
  
“Wha! What do we--?”  
  
Stiles could only stare, one thought on his mind.  
  
There was no way for them to make it out of this whole.  
  
Stiles had only felt like he was really going to die twice in his life. The first time was in that nursing home, caught between Nurse Ratched and Peter fucking Hale. Derek had saved him.The second time was when he and Derek were in the swimming pool, and Stiles’ energy and strength was draining out of him like a bloody wound. Scott had saved him. Hell, when he’d been so sick, if he’d been able to actually _think_ he would have been certain he was going to die from his body’s desperation at throwing off the kanima bite. Again, Derek had saved him.  
  
There wasn’t anyone here to save him now.  
  
Stiles moved slowly back, tripping backwards and landing on his ass. He reached out blindly with shaking fingers and saw that by some miracle his text was still up on his phone. He had been interrupted before he could send it. Stiles hit send with shaking fingers, tossed his phone out of the door, then dove forward so that his knees were at the rim of the trapdoor.  
Behind the door ( _door number two!_ Stiles’ mind shrieked at him unhelpfully), and attached to the wires that held Erica captive was... well. Stiles didn’t know how to describe it, but it looked like a pyromaniac’s wet dream. He could see what looked like four different trips, all connected to main wire. Stiles wasn’t a bomb expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he did understand basic physics. Okay, so it reminded him a little more like Mousetrap than a chemistry experiment, but he could see immediately what would happen. Erica was hanging upside down, providing the weight that had set the bomb. If that weight were released, it would trip, causing the two containers to explode. Stiles didn’t know how far it would go, but when it went he was pretty sure it would take a good bit of the house with it.  
  
“You have to get her out of that. Isaac, you can break it. Lydia, you’ll have to catch her and get the fuck out before it explodes.” Stiles’ voice sounded like it was coming from very far off. He felt light- headed, almost sick with nerves. He wanted to puke. To scream.  
  
“ _You_ need to get out of here _right now_ , Stiles!”  
  
Stiles felt his molars grounding together. “No. I’m not. You guys get her out of here. Come back if you can. Call my dad.”  
With his fingers trembling only a little, Stiles reached out and opened the trapdoor. It was stronger than he thought, reinforced by several inches of metal. Stiles heaved at it with a grunt. He could barely lift it and felt his shoulder give a funny sort of twinge as he lifted.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
But that didn’t mean that nothing _could_ happen. There could be any sort of booby-trap, just like on that door handle. Stiles bit his lip sharply enough that he could taste blood and stepped down into the shadowy darkness. He stopped so that he was waist-level with the floor and took a deep breath. Isaac looked down at him, absolutely terrified. His eyes were wide in his pale face. Erica still made those gurgling sounds, but they were quieter now as she bled out. Stiles didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. What if there were bombs down here? What if Lydia and Isaac killed Erica when they got her down? What if they couldn’t get out in time and burned to death?  
  
“Oh--. Okay. Are you guys ready?”  
  
“Stiles...” Lydia’s whisper sounded just as terrified as he felt. She bent and picked up the heavy door, holding it so that Stiles could close it before they tried to free Erica.  
  
“No problem. I can do this. Just part of the Stiles Stilinski Package of Awesome.” His voice was high-pitched. Lydia let go of the door and Stiles grunted as he held up its weight. Lydia blinked several times before smiling. She turned to Isaac and nodded, ready.  
  
“If you die and Derek kills us all for letting you get hurt, I’m completely fucking haunting your skinny ass.” Isaac sounded like he was about to piss himself, but Stiles appreciated the thought.  
  
“Don’t worry about me. I’m tough. You guys be careful, okay? Give me a couple of minutes to get at the bottom of these stairs.” Stiles swallowed hard and closed the trapdoor, his entire body screaming at the feeling of _trappedcaughtTRAPPED_ that made his balls tighten and all of the spit in his mouth dry up. He flailed around, brushing his hand against the dirt-packed walls, feeling each way with his foot before he took a step.  
  
He couldn’t see anything.  
  
“Derek?” His yell echoed down the passage.  
  
There was a loud crash, and Stiles almost pissed himself, jumping back in fear. The realization that there could very likely be a cave-in from a huge-ass explosion was the only thing that kept him moving forward, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in the dark with some kind of monster.  
  
“Oh shit. Oh _shiiit_.”  
  
When the explosion hit, Stiles arced through the air, landing hard enough that every bone in his body jarred and juddered in place. It rocked Stiles forward so hard that he landed on his hands and knees, scraping what felt like three inches of skin off of his palms. It was terrifying to cower there in the pitch black, feeling the aftershocks, feeling little spits of dirt rain down on his head. He became aware that he was moaning, high-pitched and low in the back of his throat. He made himself stop with a pained-sounding whimper.  
  
The crash was louder this time. It echoed strangely through the basement, sounding weird to Stiles’ ears after the explosion.  
Stiles reached out with his hands, his fingertips brushing against nothing. He moved to the left, his breath whistling when he found a wall, using it to pull himself up. He shook for a moment, trying to get his breath back. It _worked_. “Please god please oh please let them be okay.” Stiles felt tears in his eyes and brushed them away, angry at himself. He pulled away from the wall and had to laugh when he felt the familiar shape under his fingers.  
  
“Oh no fucking way,” he snorted, and flipped the light switch up.  
  
At first, Stiles blinked, not realizing what he was seeing. He could only process bits until he shook his head and focused properly.  
  
Then he wished he hadn’t as his stomach heaved.  
  
Stiles stood there for endless heartbeats, with his hands over his mouth. The light was dim, the ancients fluorescents coming on with a hitching whine of sound as the generator powered them. There was green and red blood smeared over the glass wall in front of him. It took Stiles a moment to be able to focus on the image behind the murky glass. The kanima had been skinned alive, its hide pinned to the wall behind the body with hundreds of silver pins. It looked like the world’s biggest butterfly board. The kanima itself was crumpled on the floor where it had died, trying to claw its way through the glass that kept it prisoner.

  
The crash startled him out of his stupor and Stiles jumped, turning with a not-so muffled shriek.  
  
_“Derek!!”_  
  
Derek threw himself against the glass, fangs and claws snapping at the surface, clearly doing everything that he could do to get to Stiles. The glass had tiny spider webs of cracks, but it was so thick that even Derek’s supernatural strength hadn’t made a real dent in it.  
  
Stiles felt like an idiot, but seeing him made him lurch forward, almost tripping in his haste as he fell against the glass. He coughed, his throat tight. “How do I get you out?” Stiles yelled, pressing his hands against the cool surface. “Shit, Derek I thought I’d never see you again you fucking _asshole_.” Stiles’ voice cracked as he watched Derek change back to his human form, still trying to press himself against his side of his prison.  
  
Derek visibly shook himself and pointed to the far corner. Now that the lights were back on, Stiles could see that one whole wall of the basement had been converted to a glass prison. There were blood-stained chains that Stiles was pretty sure was going to haunt his nightmares for basically _ever_ , and a supply of guns in the corner. There was a bathroom connected to the jail area, which seemed a little weird, like the Argents were crazy enough to torture and maim, but still nice enough to give potty breaks.  
  
Stiles coughed again, raising up the back of his wrist to his mouth. His eyes widened in pure terror when he realized that there was smoke in the basement with him. He went towards the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. The smoke wasn’t bad yet, but it was getting worse. Stiles went to the door, then kicked the glass with his foot as he saw that it was locked.There were at least ten different of the biggest padlocks Stiles had ever seen, welded together and fused so that they couldn’t be easily broken.  
  
Derek pounded on the glass, and Stiles looked back at him. Derek pointed towards the guns and Stiles whirled, looking at all the keys that tumbled together on a small key ring. Most of them were obviously to gun cabinets, but two were larger, and looked like they went to the padlocks. It only took a few minutes for him to find the right key, but between his hands shaking and the smoke that was slowly making the room hazier and hazier, it took Stiles several tries to get them unlocked.  
  
There were two doors. One was the same thick glass that kept them inside, and the other was metal of the same amount of thickness. Stiles was cursing as he flung the last one open then he didn’t care because Derek had him; their bodies pressed together from chest to thigh. Stiles’ own arms were around Derek’s neck and he couldn’t make himself let go.  
  
“Chris told me about the trap and Jesus fucking _Christ_ , when I heard it go... I thought..” Derek broke off, pulling away from Stiles and looking at him, whining a little under his breath as he took in the myriad of bruises and scrapes Stiles had gotten falling down the steps. “The explosion, Stiles. _Stiles._ ”  
  
Stiles pulled away, cupping Derek’s head in his hands, fisting a double handful of hair and pulling Derek’s gaze to his. “I’m _fine_ , Derek. But the place is on fire. We have to get out of here.”  
  
“Yeah, no shit.”  
  
Stiles jumped, and craned his neck around Derek, staring at a pale-looking Chris Argent. He was shirtless and covered in several makeshift bandages. There were bruises along his stomach, along his ribs, and a hell of a painful looking shiner under his eye. “My daughter?”  
  
“She’s... okay. She’s with Scott. Can we get out of here?” Stiles stepped away from Derek walking forward to catch the older man when it looked like he was going to fall over, ignoring the way Derek went completely still when he did so. He grunted a little under Chris’ weight, rolling his eyes as Derek practically snatched Chris out of his hands, supporting his weight as though it was an afterthought.  
  
“Well, kid. Either we go up through the burning house, or your buddy here tosses us through that window.”  
  
Stiles swallowed, hard. He took in a deep breath, but started coughing instead. The window was small enough that Stiles didn’t even think he could get his _head_ through there, let alone his body.  
  
Derek made a low sound in his throat and stepped away from Chris. Stiles saw him tense, his muscles bunching as he sprung forward, clawing into the wall, his claws making tiny sparks as he held himself up.  
  
Stiles felt his mouth drop open.  
  
Derek punched through the glass, pulling on the frame and yanking, tossing it down at his feet. He grabbed another part of the concrete wall, yanking it out until there was a big enough hole in the wall.  
  
“...or we let the werewolf play with the interior decoration.”  
  
“That... was... _awesome_!!”  
  
Derek snorted as he jumped down. “If I boost you up, can you climb out?”  
  
“Yeah. One sec. We don’t know what’s out there.” Chris snatched the keys out of Stiles’ numb hand and unlocked the gun cabinet, helping himself to what looked like a cross between a crossbow and a shotgun. “Kid! Here!” He tossed a wooden box towards Stiles. “He’s gonna need that once the adrenaline wears off.” Stiles caught it, only fumbling once as he coughed again. It was a wooden box, a little bigger than a cigarette case and had a brand of wolfsbane on the cover.  
  
“When you’re ready....?” Derek made a face that looked like he was thinking fondly of the good-old-days of Argent neck ripping-outting, and Chris rolled his eyes.  
  
“It’ll do you a lot of good to get out only to fall on your ass when the poison gets to your heart.” The _idiot_ was loud and clear. Chris lurched forward, wincing and Derek grabbed his hip, his muscles bunching as he boosted Allison’s father up, tossing him through the hole he made.  
  
“Stiles?” He watched as Derek stalked towards him. Stiles could feel Derek shaking as he grabbed his wrist. “We need to go. I can’t... The. The fire. I need you to be out of here.”  
  
Oh, _god._ Of course. How could he have forgotten about Derek's family- even for a  _second?_  
  
Stiles almost jumped towards the wall. Derek stood much closer to him than he had to Chris, running his hands up and down Stiles’ sides. Stiles felt Derek’s grip tighten before he was lifted up, his knee barking painfully on the wall before he could pull himself out of the small opening. He fit with no problem. He pushed with his elbows, his hand tight around the box of wolfsbane and flopped over onto his back on the grass He felt Derek just _appear_ behind him, and Stiles could only sit there for a minute, breathing heavily as everything that had just happened caught up to him.  
  
He was horribly afraid that he was going to burst into tears like the stupid baby Derek probably thought he was. Derek’s hand reached for his and their fingers tangled together, before squeezing.  
  
“Jesus Christ. You two are enough to make me fucking puke.” Chris sounded completely and utterly pissed off at the world as he lay, holding his ribs, glaring up at the sky.  
  
Stiles wanted to say something about his daughter and Scott, but was laughing too hard to speak.  
  
  
Tbc!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter will be posted by Tuesday!


	10. Chapter 10

The crack of the twig breaking was like a gunshot. In the time that Stiles was able to twitch in reaction, Derek had whirled, crouched low to the ground.  
  
“Isn’t this cozy?” Victoria Argent’s voice was cold; a false saccharine to it that made Stiles’ skin absolutely crawl. Derek next to him growled low in his throat, shifting slightly. Of course. _Of course_ they weren’t out of this yet.  
  
“Don’t move, Hale.” Stiles froze. Victoria’s gun wasn’t pointed at Derek, but directly at Stiles’ forehead. “Must be terrible for you, saddled with these two humans.” Stiles couldn’t look away from the cold, dark muzzle of the gun. To his exhausted eyes, it looked huge. “You know your reflexes are slow. Of course you _could_ take a chance with this one’s life....” Her smile made Stiles want to throw up. “But I don’t recommend it.”  
  
“Victoria...” Chris Argent’s voice when he spoke to his wife was low, rough as he tried to sit up.  
  
Stiles was afraid to look away, either at the sound that Derek was still making or at Mr. Argent’s weak protest. It was almost scarier the way there was absolutely no change in expression on her face as the bruised and bloodied man she’d been married to for over seventeen years spoke.  
  
“Now, Victoria. That’s no way to speak to our guests. Why, I believe that’s the Sheriff’s boy. Mr. Stilinski, correct?”  
  
Stiles nodded woodenly. It was one thing for the principal of the school to know your father. But it was completely another to know that someone absolutely batshit insane _knew your name_.  
  
“See, normally this might be a tad awkward, wouldn’t you say?” Allison’s grandfather smiled and Stiles flinched back from the menace he saw there. “We tend to frown upon our kind associating with... animals. And lookee here.” He waved the crossbow around. “Looks like you’re on the wrong side of this little line in the sand, son.”  
  
Chris Argent opened his mouth, but his father just spoke over him, as though completely ignoring his existence. “Oh, I’m sure your father will find it very interesting that you broke into our home with your little friends to save this dumb.... beast. Your reunion was very touching.”  
  
Victoria snorted. “Revolting.”  
  
Derek started to step forward, but froze again as Allison’s grandfather casually pointed the crossbow at Stiles’ heart. From this angle it looked big enough to take down a bear, let alone one scrawny human. Stiles licked his lips. “Okay so... are you guys going to let us go? Allison said that the code means that you can’t hurt us. Derek hasn’t killed anyone.”  
  
Gerard’s affable smile twisted. “Derek Hale is responsible for the death of my daughter. One minute she’s leading him merrily around by his dick and the next, she’s confessing to me that she didn’t think she could go through with the plan. Ridiculous, really the way these beasts worm their way into our lives. It only took moments to convince her that the only way to redeem her place with her family was to obliterate everything her ...beloved....” his laugh made Stiles’ fists clench. “... held dear.” Gerard’s smile twisted. “Well, as dear as something like that can hold anyway.”  
  
Stiles knew that Derek had hooked up with Kate once upon a time. He’s always kind of assumed that Kate had just been completely coocoo for cocoa puffs, and had been working alone- without guidance or approval from the rest of the Argent clan. Now though, Stiles could only hear his heartbeat as Gerard Argent’s words sunk in. He had convinced own daughter to _kill Derek’s family?_  
  
Derek’s growl, a low, furious sound that had almost became background noise, completely stopped. Stiles had the bizarre urge to cower away from the werewolf behind him, afraid of the potential for violence coiled inside in the heat he could feel against the back of his body. Stiles knew that violence was looking for a moment to escape. He chanced a quick look out of the corner of his eye. Derek was completely still as he crouched there, his gaze flicking from Victoria to Gerard.  
  
“It’s unfortunate that you have wormed your way into this, Mr. Stilinski, but I’m sure that you understand that it really wouldn’t be in our best interests to let you go. And based on what we saw, it will hurt him so very much more if he watches _your_ guts spill onto the ground and he knows that _he’s_ the reason that you’re dead.”  
  
“Uh. No. Actually I think that’s kind of an epically shitty idea.”  
  
“Language, Mr. Stilinski. Now. Move away from the animal.”  
  
Stiles was glad that he was already on his knees, or he probably would have fainted. As it was he already felt light-headed. Still, he managed a creaky-sounding, “No.” out of a throat thick with fear.  
  
“Stiles.” Derek’s voice was colder than Stiles had ever heard it.  
  
“No!”  
  
Gerard raised an eyebrow. “One.”  
  
Stiles’ heartbeat stopped, then thundered so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything else. This was really gonna happen. His gaze darted crazily from Allison’s mom to Allison’s grandfather, like this was still some kind of joke. Like Allison would burst through the woods any second all, “Haha! Just kidding!”  
  
But no.  
  
They were going to use him as a way to hurt Derek even more. Even worse was the realization that if Stiles wasn’t there, Derek could take the two of them with no problem. Even hurt as he was, and sick with wolfsbane poisoning, Stiles knew Derek could kill any of the humans in front of him. He was just that fast. But not even Derek could stop a bullet and a crossbow at once. Not at this close of a range. If the two Argents were standing more closely together...but no. They had hunted too many other creatures together, and were standing just far enough from each other...  
  
“Two.”  
  
Stiles wanted to say something. He wanted to do something ridiculously dramatic. He didn’t want his dad to have to identify his body. Stiles started to turn his body towards Derek, feeling his lips tremble.  
  
“Thr--”  
  
Stiles choked on his scream when he heard the gunshot. Whimpered when he heard the _pnnnnng!_ of a crossbow being fired; slammed into the ground when he heard a second gunshot. Stiles blinked up at the sunlight through the trees, waiting for the pain or blackness or--  
  
_“Stiles!_ ”  
  
Derek.  
  
Stiles blinked, looking up where Derek, leaned over him, flashing back to when Stiles had been paralyzed by the toxin. Derek had looked concerned then. Now, he looked half-crazed.  
  
It took Stiles a moment to realize that he hadn’t actually been shot; that Derek had saved him... that he didn’t feel any pain because Derek kept running his hands over Stiles’ chest, looking for a wound. The crossbow bolt that he’d somehow caught was mangled next to them, broken into splinters.  
  
“I. I’m--”  
  
_“Stiles!!”_ His dad’s roar made Stiles flinch. Stiles pushed himself up on his elbows, watching as his dad crouched down beside where he lay on the forest floor, still blinking stupidly up at Derek. Stiles felt his dad’s warm hands on his shoulders and froze for a second, all at once overwhelmed, not entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.  
  
Stiles sat up, staring at the bullet pushing itself out of Derek;s chest. Unthinkingly, he cupped his hand under the wound right under his left pectoral muscle. Stiles watched as it popped out with a sick, sucking sound, the blood-coated bullet landing in the palm of his hand. He heard his dad’s swift inhalation of breath as Derek’s skin healed itself, watched as muscle and sinew and tendon knitting back together, then he was being hauled forward by his shirt out of his dad’s grip, Derek’s lips brushing lightly over his as he buried his nose under Stiles’ ear again, just holding him tightly, slowly breathing in Stiles’ scent.  
  
Which probably smelled pretty gross, now that Stiles thought about it. He wasn’t actually one-hundred percent sure that he hadn’t accidentally pissed himself.  
  
“Sheriff? Everything okay here?”  
  
“What?”  
  
His dad still sounded stunned.  
  
“I thought that they’d shot him for sure. Hate those guys. Thought so ever since the crazy one torched the Hale house.  But I don’t see any bullet wounds.”  
  
Stiles pushed slightly away from Derek as his dad cleared his throat.  
  
“The shot must have went wide.” His dad still didn’t sound all the way convinced. “Did you call a medic for Mr. Argent?”  
  
“Yes, sir.” The deputy walked off, speaking into his walkie-talkie. Dazed, Stiles saw two other officers cuffing Gerard, who continue to stare at Stiles as though he could kill him with his eyes alone.  
  
Stiles froze as he remembered that there had been two other shots. Something flickered over Derek’s face when he stepped away. “What--?” Stiles looked up at Derek, saw the way his eyes gleamed red then resumed the more familiar, but no less deadly green.  
  
“The woman shot you. The old man shot _at_ you. Chris...” Derek jerked his head towards where Victoria Argent lay crumpled on the ground, sightless eyes staring unblinkingly up at the sky. Derek seemed twitchy, like he was just barely holding himself together.

  
Stiles started, blinking owl-eyed at Chris Argent, who held the gun that he used to shoot his wife out to Stiles’ father, looking blank. The wound on his chest was bleeding again, either broken open when Derek slung him out of the basement or later when he’d kept his wife from killing Stiles.  
  
The shriek from the woods made him jump and Allison almost knocked Stiles over as she ran by. The gun hit the forest floor with a thunk. “Daddy! Oh, _Dad!!_ ” Within a heartbeat Allison was hugging her dad, and her dad was clutching her, his chin resting on her curly hair as he pressed his lips together, eyes squeezed shut.  
  
Derek turned to the line of the woods, jerking his head at Boyd and Scott, telling them without needing words that he’d meet up with them later. Stiles only saw the long tail of Jackson, and his eyes widened as he remembered Lydia and Isaac. And Erica. _Jesus._ Stiles didn’t quite know how he was going to tell Derek that he’d gotten half of his pack killed. He watched, still feeling a little shocky as his dad jogged over to him. “You two better get out of here. I’ll need to interview you later, though so don’t go far.” He turned to Stiles. “And _you_. If I ever get a text like that from you again...” Stiles’ dad trailed off, jerking him into another hug. Stiles felt his own throat tighten.  
  
“I wasn’t sure if it would even send, what with the fire and all.”  
  
“The fire?” Stiles’ dad stepped back,the expression on his face slowly bleeding to that of a parent who knows there’s something else to a story that he just really doesn’t want to know. His hand froze in the act of handing Stiles back his phone. It was still set in the gps-emergency mode that they’d used to trace his phone.  
  
“Don’t be a fool. There’s no fire. Do you think we would torch a perfectly good house for a few stupid kids? By the way, Sheriff, I’ll be wanting to discuss your son’s breaking and entering charges when you have a minute.” Gerard looked perfectly at ease with his hands handcuffed behind his back. If you ignored the furious rage in his eyes.  
  
Stiles frowned, pulling away from his dad and looking down at his phone. It was cracked from where he’d tossed it out of the house, certain that it was about to be barbequed with the rest of the cabin, then looked back towards the house. Stiles, Derek, and Chris had come out at the base of the little hill, away from the main part of the house. Stiles hadn’t even noticed his surroundings. He rubbed the top of his head, staring at what _should_ have been a burnt husk of a house. Instead smoke billowed out; quite a lot of smoke in fact, but there were no fires.  
  
“That was a smoke bomb?” Stiles hadn’t meant to whisper. He was still kind of enjoying the shock thing he had going on. His hand tightened around his phone until he felt his knuckles go white.  
  
The Sheriff slowly turned to face Gerard. His smile wasn’t what Stiles would call particularly nice. In fact, it looked a little like the good sheriff was having trouble remembering that he was wearing a uniform. “I think the three counts of attempted murder, one against a minor, the two counts of conspiracy to commit, plus the two counts of kidnapping will keep you pretty--and that’s just what I can think of now!-- busy. Oh and the explanations on the whatever-the-hell-it was you had in that holding cell down there that is currently making my deputy babble about lizard skin in between puking up his fucking toenails.” The smile turned positively evil.  
  
“Both myself and three of my deputies saw you _shoot at my son_. I hope you have a very good lawyer, Mr. Argent.”  
  
Stiles felt goosebumps break out on his skin as he remembered the kanima the Argents had... not just killed. _Skewered_. Derek stepped up behind him and Stiles had to stop himself from stepping back into the comforting heat blasting off his body. It reminded him that Derek was still suffering from the wolvesbane and he flailed, all at once sucking in too much air on a gasp. Derek’s hands closed over Stiles’ biceps, and he bent low to breathe in Stiles’ ear. “Three minutes and I’m taking you out of here.” Of course, that made him shiver for an entirely different reason.  
  
There was some commotion as two sets of paramedics trotted up, hauling their equipment. One went over to where Chris Argent still sat, clutching his daughter with Allison pressing her tear-streaked face into his neck. The other went over to Victoria Argent’s body.  
  
“Stiles.”  
  
He was really having trouble focusing. Stiles felt like he was on the cusp of something approaching a freak-out of epic proportions, but he didn’t want to fall apart in front of his dad.  
  
“He’ll be with me, Sheriff. You still have my number.”  
  
His dad made a funny sound- something between a growl, a laugh, and a snort. “Yes. I most definitely do.”  
  
Derek turned, and still grasping Stiles arm, staggered a little towards the woods. Stiles reached out without thinking about it and they both supported the other as they walked the few feet back towards the house. Stiles opened his mouth, and Derek just gave him a quick shake, walking a little faster.  
  
Stiles just had time for one glance back to his dad who was staring after them with a small smile on his face before he turned the corner.  
  
“Derek... I.”  
  
“Not now, Stiles.” Derek’s voice was tight as his eyes darted from face to face around the smoky crime-scene. His fingers tightened on Stiles’ bicep and Stiles couldn’t help the wince and the hiss of pain. Derek dropped him so quickly that he stumbled, his arms pinwheeling as he tried to get his balance. Derek kept walking, his face carefully blank.  
  
“But, Derek....”  
  
“Not. _Here_.”  
  
Stiles felt the stupid tears pricking at his eyes again. Did Derek already know? Was he... mad that Stiles had basically hidden away while his pack were hurt? But no, wait. If there wasn’t a fire then they surely could have gotten away, right? But Erica. He stopped for a minute. She had been pretty cut up. If Isaac pulled the barbed wire the wrong way, could she have been wounded enough that she couldn’t heal? Was that why Derek was acting so pissed off? Stiles had caught a glimpse of the other three- Boyd, Scott, and Jackson, so at least he knew that they were okay. But what about Lydia? And Isaac?  
  
Derek actually took four steps before he noticed that Stiles had stopped and was staring at the ground, trying not to act like any more of a stupid kid. Before Stiles could raise his head, Derek was just _there_ , pressed up against him. “Stiles.” His voice was soft. “Let’s just get out of sight, okay? Then you can tell me anything you want.”  
  
“Oh god, it’s like watching my parents get ready to suck face.” Erica’s voice was completely disgusted.  
  
Stiles turned so fast that his back popped in two places, gaping at her and Isaac. A branch snapped and Stiles saw Scott and Boyd standing a little further away. “I. I can’t believe you’re okay!”

Stiles did something he never, ever dreamed possible. It was an act of pure bravery, and he fully expected his tombstone to completely reflect his utter awesomeness.  
  
He hugged Erica, almost jumping in place.  
  
“We did it! Holy _shit_ that actually worked!” Even more shocking was the fact that she hugged him back for a second- before the low, dark sound from Derek sent her pushing Stiles away.  
  
“Are you _crazy_?” Erica’s voice was much higher than usual.  
  
Stiles blinked, trying not to pout. Okay they weren’t ever going to be bffs, but it was just a hug. “Sheesh, what? You want me to be mad that you weren’t cut in half by those crazy bastards? You didn’t see what they did to the kanima thing. Naaaast-ttyyyy. It won’t be marking anyone else.”  
  
Scott, Boyd, Isaac and Erica looked from him, to Derek, and back to him, almost in complete sync, identical _are you crazy?!_ looks on their faces. Stiles didn’t even know that Boyd had _facial expressions._. It was kind of blowing his mind.  
  
“What?” Stiles was beginning to think that he missed something. Stiles turned to look at Derek and felt himself flush at the intense look the werewolf was giving him. It reminded him very forcibly of the look on Derek’s face right before he kissed him the first time, and he was pretty sure that he didn’t want Derek to jump him right here, within eyesight of half of his father’s police force. Seventy-two percent. Okay, at least fifty-three percent sure.  
  
“Put your phone and the wolvesbane in your pocket.” Stiles did so, taking a tiny step back from the look on Derek’s face. Derek’s eyes flashed and his hands blurred. Stiles didn’t have time to squeak in surprise before Derek had yanked him up, tossing him over his shoulder. Stiles could see Erica roll her eyes, Scott’s horrified nose-wrinkle of disapproval, and the identical little smirks on Boyd and Isaac’s faces before he felt Derek’s muscles bunch under him and he was running through the woods.  
  
Stiles would have screamed, but he was too busy clutching at nothing, then squeezing his eyes shut as trees and sky and the forest floor blurred under his gaze. Derek’s rock-hard shoulder got him in the stomach, and his breath _woooshed_ out of him on a grunt of pain. Shit, he’d been in cars that went slower than this. Stiles didn’t have time to feel nauseous before Derek stopped with a lurch, his hand gliding down Stiles’ ass and over his legs before moving up to his hips and swinging him off of Derek’s shoulder.  
  
Stiles tried not to feel like a wuss as he clutched at Derek’s shoulders, trying to make his legs stop trembling. “You... what....!”  
  
Derek pawed at his hip before pulling Stiles’ poor, beleaguered phone out of Stiles’ jeans’ pocket. He caught Stiles’ hand and placed the phone into it very deliberately.  
  
“You are going to turn around and walk into my house. You will take a shower. You will let me tend to the wounds that I can still smell on you. You will go back on my bed. Then I am going to do every single thing I’ve been imagining doing to you in the last three weeks. If any of that is not an option then you need to tell me now, or call Scott to pick you up. He has your jeep.”  
  
Stiles’ mouth fell open. He wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t drool on himself, because _Jesus_. He had already turned when Derek stopped him by brushing his hand against Stiles’ side. Even the thought of Scott driving his baby didn’t really register. He bit his lips when Derek stepped closer, his fingertips brushing on the slight bit of skin over Stiles’ jeans. Stiles felt muscles in his stomach jump, as though they were trying to reach towards Derek’s fingers. Stiles sucked in a harsh breath as Derek’s fingers found the wooden box and pulled it out of his other pocket, shaking it with a little smirk. “Don’t think this will do you any good.”  
  
Stepping away from Derek’s fingers was not exactly easy, but let it never be said that Stiles Stilinski didn’t know when to follow directions.  
  
Except for the part where he _ran_ , not walked.  
  
****  
  
He probably should have expected it. It seemed somehow kind of like a dick move, taking a guy’s shower when said guy had been smacked around by psychos for over twelve hours.  
  
But still, the click of the door made Stiles freeze with his one hand on his chest, and the other... a little lower. He jerked up his head, poking his nose around the shower curtain, staring with wide eyes at Derek who stood there, calmly unzipping his jeans and kicking out of them. There was dirt and dried blood from old wounds. Stiles gaze went right to where the bullet had sliced through Derek’s skin, and blinked hard, disappearing back behind the shower curtain.  
  
“Stiles?”  
  
Derek was doing a lot more than just saying his name. Asking if it was okay for Derek to be here, if Stiles wanted this, if Stiles was okay...  
  
“Yeah. I’m about to use all your hot water up.”  
  
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Derek sounded like he was about to laugh. Which, Stiles thought, was probably pretty fair, since his own voice sounded like Mickey Mouse. If Mickey Mouse did cheezy porn lines. Which he might. Not that Stiles was in any position to judge... _oh jeez_.  
  
Derek just took a step forward, and Stiles forced himself to continue soaping his chest, scrubbing over his armpits, and down his sides, glad that Derek couldn’t see his face. This wasn’t a biggie, right? He showered with guys all the time. Of course, they weren’t this close. And Derek was close. Stiles could hear him breathing behind him. Stiles spared a moment for what he probably looked like: freckles and moles painted over a lanky frame and skinny ass, before wincing and focusing resolutely on the white tile in front of him.  
  
Derek’s arm reached out to take the soap and Stiles felt his face go scarlet. It was such a simple, intimate act. Derek had probably showered with someone else a million times, but for Stiles it made his heart flutter crazily in his chest. Derek started soaping his back, each of his fingers seeming to zero in on a muscle that made Stiles’ heart flutter crazily in his chest. Derek’s hands moved up from the center of Stiles’ back, gently tilting his head forward so that the water crashed down on his head, working his fingers into the tense muscles of Stiles’ neck.  
  
“Ohhh... ungh. Oh-okay. So is this to make the virgin less freaked out?” Stiles bit his lip, bracing his hand against the tile. Derek was finding aches he didn’t even know he had. It felt amazing. His body didn’t know whether to slump forward in bliss, or rub back against Derek. Their bodies weren’t touching, but Stiles could sense that Derek was only a few inches away from him and just knowing that was driving him crazy, wondering when Derek would push forward the slightest bit to bring them together.  
  
“Maybe it’s for me to feel less freaked out.”  
  
Stiles snorted.  
  
“What? I can’t be nervous?”  
  
That caused Stiles to turn, shocked. “Oh come on. I can’t imagine you being nervous about anything.”  
  
Derek’s eyebrow quirked. Stiles shivered when his hands didn’t stop, continuing over the front of Stiles’ neck, pressing slightly into the tiny bruise there before rubbing over his collarbone, down over his shoulders, his chest. Stiles couldn’t help the little sound he made when the palm of Derek’s hand brushed over his nipples, nor the shiver when Derek’s eyes gleamed when he heard it. “You don’t think I’m nervous? Stiles, you almost _died._ Those fucking cages were soundproof, so I knew you couldn’t hear me yelling for you. The ‘bane had confused my senses so much that...then the explosion and the... the smoke....” Derek trailed off, his eyes shuttered.  
  
Stiles swallowed hard, eyes darting from the eyelashes that were spiky from the shower water, to the way the steam had wilted Derek’s hair. Stiles didn’t ever want to see that broken look on Derek’s face again. It seemed ridiculous. Until he’d been attacked by the kanima, Stiles would have been hard-placed to attribute the fact that Derek actually felt things like a normal person, let alone felt anything more intense than dislike for Stiles. Now though? Now he knew Derek felt just as much as the next person. He was just better at hiding it. He’d had years of (rightfully) mistrusting the humans who had hunted and hurt him. Yet here he was. With _Stiles_ , of all people.  
  
Stiles took the soap and returned the favor, scrubbing lightly at the dried blood and dirt smeared across Derek’s chest, refusing to look lower, which was probably kind of stupid, but Stiles didn’t want Derek thinking that he didn’t appreciate what Derek was doing. Just going for his dick seemed like it would send the wrong message. Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against Derek’s. He was aiming for his mouth, but got the side of his lips instead, which made him feel like an idiot. Stiles tried really hard not to notice that him moving like that made his dick brush against Derek’s leg, but it did and his full-body shudder was hardly easy to ignore. He winced again. “Sorry.. I’m. Uh. Sorry.” His whisper still sounded loud over the sound of the water in the shower.  
  
Derek groaned low in his throat, and yanked Stiles closer, so that their chests were together. Stiles gasped again when his cock slid against Derek’s stomach, and shivered when Derek’s arms came around him. “Stiles,” Derek’s voice was low. It caused things in Stiles’ gut to tighten. Derek pressed his nose under Stiles’ ear, into his neck and breathed deeply. “God, I don’t know what to do first.”  
  
“We could. Uh. Get to the deflowering part. You know, you do the whole Star Trek thing. Boldly going where no man has... er. Or! Or this whole cuddle thing is awesome too but I think I might come in like two seconds because you’re so...oh my god I think I’m talking you out of this who _does_ tha-- _mmmph_.”  
  
Derek shut Stiles up by tilting his head back and kissing him, taking a few steps so that he crowded Stiles’ back against the wall of the shower. His hands slid down Stiles sides, settling on Stiles’ hips , the fingers starfishing out over his ass so that Derek could pull their hips even closer together.  
  
Stiles didn’t even know he could make that sound. At least he assumed it was him. Derek was licking into his mouth, nipping at his lower lip, pulling it a little and kissing over the stretched skin. Stiles didn’t know what to do first. His hands curled over Derek’s shoulders, hanging on, trying not to dig his fingernails into Derek’s skin as his toes curled. Shit, he’d thought that only happened in _books_. Derek moved again, and Stiles saw starbursts behind his eyes at the sensation of a wet hand on his cock. The touch was brief before Derek's fingers settled back onto Stiles' hip. He jerked his mouth away from Derek’s with a cry.  
  
“ _Fuck_ Stiles, you sound so good like that. I’ve been thinking of touching you, of getting to watch you come again.” Derek’s mutter was low in Stiles’ ear and Stiles couldn’t help the way he arched against him again, looking for more friction. Derek moved one hand from his hip to his dick, tightening and squeezing before starting to jack him faster, his wet hand tight, and Stiles couldn’t keep himself still, jerking a little at each move of Derek’s fist.  
  
Stiles only had a second to force his eyes open one one long blink, caught a glimpse of the bunched muscles in Derek’s forearm with water sluicing over the whorls of hair, then blinked up when Derek tilted his face up so that he could watch Stiles as he came, mouth open in a wail as his cock spurted over Derek’s hand, shooting up and landing on Derek’s chest. The second pulse landed on the back of Derek’s hand, but before Stiles had stopped moaning, Derek was kissing him again, over his open mouth, his lips sliding down the side of Stiles’ neck, over his wet shoulder as he licked up the water on his skin. Derek moved to cup Stiles’ ass again, lifting him into Derek’s slightly taller body.  
  
Stiles just gasped for a second, overwhelmed as his sensitive cock slid against Derek’s body again, his heartbeat too loud in his ears. Derek thrust up, rutting against Stiles with a little grunt. his name almost ripping out of Derek’s chest before Derek stepped back, his hand practically strangling his own dick as he struggled not to come.  
  
Stiles’ eyes bugged at the sight of Derek pressed against the back end of the shower, grabbing the base of his dick with his other hand stretched out along the tile, like he couldn’t quite force himself to quit reaching out for Stiles.  
  
“Wh- what? Derek?”  
  
“I- just need a minute.”  
  
Stiles shut his mouth with a pop. _Oh._ He swallowed hard. “Um. Did I do something... wrong? Uh, other than coming in like three seconds?”  
  
“No.” Derek’s eyes popped open. “No, Stiles of course not. It’s just that our pack is downstairs.” He breathed deeply, slowly releasing his hand from his dick. “And I’m not going to rush this.”  
  
“Can I kill them?”  
  
Derek snorted. “I might beat you to it. You go ahead and finish up here, and come down when you’re ready. I’ll leave you something to change into.” Derek ignored the way his cock bobbed as he stepped out of the shower, walking naked out into his bedroom.  
  
Stiles got an eyeful and was really glad that Derek wasn’t there to see the completely dorky way his eyes widened when Stiles got a look at Derek’s cock for the first time. He remembered how he’d had to work himself open with the small toy, and knew that... oh. Oh fuck no way was he going to get hard with six werewolves like, just downstairs. They could probably _smell_ it on him or something.  
  
Which, okay. Embarrassing.  
  
He wrinkled his nose as he thought, washing his body, blushing a little when he soaped up his ass. Talk about washing with intent. He felt like he should put on sexy underwear or something. Stiles wondered if they’d smell him on Derek, and ...yeah. Not so embarrassing. More like... completely awesome. Stiles smirked at the tile, thinking that he kind of liked the idea of everyone knowing that Derek was... well. His. That’s what it came down to after all. Well, it was hard to say for certain given that he couldn’t exactly go up to another werewolf pack and ask, but from the way the others treated him, and what Stiles had picked up in his research and from watching basically every documentary made about a wolf _ever_... Derek had pretty much announced that they were mates. Stiles wasn’t sure how that would work with him being human. Would he need to be bitten later? The pack was full of such young people- people that Stiles had _Chemistry_ with for Christ’s sake. They weren’t used to taking any kind of orders from him.  
  
Would they need to ... take orders from him? Would he really want them to? Hell no. It had been nerve-wracking enough just taking over for a few hours while they found Derek. Stiles couldn’t help a small feeling of pride as he washed off his soap and shut off the water. All things considered, he hadn’t done all that bad.  
  
True to his word, Derek had left a pile of folded clothes on the closed toilet. Stiles dressed quickly, towel-drying his hair as he jogged down the stairs. The only room that wasn’t completely gutted was the kitchen, and Stiles knew they’d all be there.  
It was a surprisingly domestic scene. Derek leaned against a counter, arms crossed over his naked chest. He was still wet and yeah okay, it was a little distracting.  
  
He couldn’t swear, but Stiles thought that Isaac snorted.  
  
“Well?” Derek’s growl wasn’t particularly patient.  
  
Stiles froze mid-step. He was pretty sure that his flaming cheeks fairly screamed **THIS GUY HAD HIS HAND ON MY DICK TEN MINUTES AGO**  but he tried to act a little less like the complete social reject he was, attempting to arrange his face into something approaching a more solemn listening expression.  
  
Boyd tilted his chair back as he kept his gaze on Derek’s. “You brought us into this knowing that your way was the law. Here’s the thing though: it’s weird as hell, but I keep finding myself ... pleased when I do something that I know that you’ll approve of. Kind of a moot point, man. He’s already yours, whether he’s a wolf or not.”  
  
Stiles froze, fighting to keep his face blank.  
  
“Yeah. He protects us. He smells like you. You obviously want him. Stiles fought for us, Derek. He bled for us. If I had listened to him, I wouldn’t have been strung up in that trap.” Erica sounded bored with the conversation, but she kept looking over at Stiles with a little smirk on her face.  
  
“I think you’re lucky to have him.” Isaac lifted his chin under the way Derek’s gaze focused on him, sharp like knives and twice as cutting. “You are. He’s... a really good person. I think that will be good for all of us.”  
  
Stiles blinked, feeling a little emotional. It occurred to him then that none of them would dare lie to their Alpha. That... they were all speaking the truth.  
  
“Besides, Derek. Your wolf’s already claimed him. _That_ was pretty obvious. Y’know, you never asked Stiles what he wanted. Maybe it’s a bit too much to expect to put up with all of...” Scott waved his hand around. “This.”  
  
Stiles caught Derek’s flinch out of the corner of his eye and frowned. He held up one finger. “One. There has been no claiming. I am not a swooning maiden. If there ever _is_ claiming, I will find some way to hurt whoever mentions it. Two. I want it understood that if Derek is like, wolf-marrying me or whatever I am absolutely _not_ wearing an apron. And you guys can clean up after your damn selves.”  
  
Derek snorted, but when Stiles pushed off the wall, Derek met him halfway, reaching out to touch the bruise on his neck again. Stiles felt his dick jump in his pants and glared when Derek just smirked, like he knew what was happening. Derek turned to pick up his drink, staring at him over the top of the water bottle. Stiles didn’t even know you could keep smirking and drink at the same time.  
  
“Aaand that’s my cue to leave. Good job saving daddy, everyone. Does anyone want pizza?” Erica’s voice was much less snotty than usual, and Stiles remembered the pre-bite Erica that he’d sometimes study with during Freshman year. The Erica who was much more soft; much less like she was about to bite your face off. Stiles pouted a little, looking a little forlornly after them. Pizza.... pizza did sort of sound awesome.  
  
But then again, so did Derek.  
  
Stiles’ phone rang. Derek actually laughed out loud at Stiles’ ringtone: humming along to the Cops’ theme and shaking his head as Stiles made a face. “Hi, dad. I’m still alive.”  
  
His dad just sucked in a breath. Derek dropped the water bottle with a crash back to the counter.  
  
“Oops. too soon?”  
  
“Stiles. _Not_ funny.”  
  
Stiles winced. “Oh come on. It was a little funny.”  
  
Derek was looking at him like he’d like to rip out his throat and beat him with it. Stiles rolled his eyes when his dad just sucked in a long-suffering sigh and asked to speak with Derek.  
  
“Put me on speaker phone. You need to hear this too.” Stiles pushed the button, not mentioning to his dad that Derek could hear every word of the conversation, probably better than Stiles could.  
  
“Hello, Sheriff.”  
  
“Yeah. Well, here’s the thing. Chris Argent isn’t talking about.. anything. As far as anyone knows, the.. thing in the cage with you was just a freaky pet that the Argents were fucking around with. Funny though. The pictures for that part of the crime scene turned out really bright, so you can’t actually identify what’s in them. Just that it’s big.”  
  
Derek’s eyes met Stiles’ over the phone. He looked shocked; as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Stiles was a little shocked too. Knowing that his dad was a pretty decent guy was one thing. Knowing that his dad was covering up for his preternatural goings on in Beacon Hills was another thing entirely.  
  
“Chris Argent is in the hospital. He’s going to be kept overnight, but his daughter is here with him. I guess Scott’s mom is his nurse, and she filled me in that his girl hasn’t left his side. Did you know that she was told he was dead? That her grandfather and her own _mother_ told Chris that...” there was a pause while Stiles’ dad probably looked at his notes. “That Allison was dead? That’s something.” He cleared his throat, the _completely fucked up_ left unsaid, yet clearly implied.  
  
“Let’s see. Derek, I’ll need you to come by the station tomorrow and make an official statement. Gerard Argent will quite likely never see the outside world again. He’s making noises of course, but between Allison’s statement of what she heard him do to her father, and ours of what he did to you boys, I’d be shocked if he saw a day without wearing cuffs. Crazy old bastard.”  
  
“Wow, dad.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s been a bit of a day.”  
  
The three were all quiet for a minute while they reflected upon the obviousness of that statement. Okay so Stiles was maybe still thinking about pizza. A little.  
  
“Hmm. So, tomorrow morning. Casa de Stilinski. Pancakes. Your presence is not optional.”  
  
Stiles gaped at his phone. Did his dad really just okay him having a sleepover with Derek _Hale_ then give him the holy pancake blessing?  
  
“Sounds good. Goodbye, Sheriff.”  
  
“Derek. Stiles, try not to... er.” he sighed. “Nevermind.” Stiles could practically hear his dad squeezing the top of his nose as though it pained him.  
  
They hung up. “Clearly you do not understand the significance of the pancakes. My dad’s pancakes are like, holy relics of Jesusness. _Scott_ didn’t get invited over for pancakes until six months after we’d met. And that was in  _Kindergarten_.”  
  
“Hm.” Derek finished the water.  
  
Stiles closed his mouth, and looked away, trying to give Derek a moment. It was only sometimes when he realized how much Derek had lost. Not having a mom was... okay. It was pretty terrible. But it was worse because Stiles remembered what she’d been like before she’d gotten sick. Derek had to do that with his _whole family_. Constantly.  
  
“That’s okay, right?” Stiles didn’t mean to sound so tentative.  
  
“What is it with you guys and pancakes?” Derek’s smile was faint, but it still made Stiles want to throw himself at him.  
  
Actually, Stiles really couldn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t. He didn’t really want the damn pizza anyway. Derek grunted a little in surprise, moving to save Stiles from banging his head on the top of the cabinets over the counter. Stiles wrapped his his legs around Derek, who just hoisted him up so that his ass was on the counter.  
  
“So... we don’t have to rush.” Stiles grinned.  
  
“No.”  
  
“My dad basically gave you the gold seal of approval for us to fuck each other’s brains out. I’m just gonna throw that out there, even though I get about a billion unsexy points for mentioning my dad.”  
  
“ _Ugh._ Two billion.” Derek bent down to kiss him, caging him on the counter with his body.  
  
“I uhm. Oh that’s... jeez. I never knew I liked my neck so much.” Stiles leaned back, letting Derek kiss him again. Honestly, he’d expected Derek to do more jumping and less.. well. Making out. Not that he was complaining because hello. Stiles was far from stupid.  
  
Still, he didn’t want to do this on the counter. “Can we take this upstairs?”  
  
Derek just stripped off Stiles’ shirt. “Talking about mates and smelling you all over me, looking at you in my clothes... I’m trying to not go too fast here, but you can’t just say shit like that, Stiles.”  
  
Stiles licked his lips, watching as Derek’s gaze zeroed in on his mouth. “Yeah, well. I talk a lot. It’s kind of a thing.” He leaned forward and kissed Derek’s chest, scraping his teeth experimentally over the skin below Derek’s collarbone, grinning again as Derek jerked under his mouth with a groan.  
  
Derek heaved Stiles up, taking his weight like he didn’t weigh anything. Stiles felt one of Derek’s hand on the back of his neck, and the other on his ass and just hung on as Derek carried him up the stairs, their mouths locked together. Stiles felt kind of proud of the fact that he wasn’t like, drooling or panting in Derek’s mouth. Derek let him kiss wherever he wanted, however he wanted, and Stiles was completely okay with that.  
  
Stiles landed with a thump on the bed, but hardly noticed with the way Derek was on top of him, pressing him into the mattress. Stiles could barely catch his breath. Derek seemed greedy for it; for him as they kissed until Derek pulled back with a low groan.

  
“What do you want me to do?” Derek rocked his pelvis against Stiles’ and they both gasped. “This is your show. Do you want my hand again? My mouth? Do you want me to fuck you, Stiles?”  
  
Stiles shuddered. It wasn’t much of a choice to be honest. “Inside. I want you inside me.”  
  
Derek pulled away for a second, his face blank. He held up his hand and Stiles watched the fingernails bleed into claws, then back to fingers. Stiles froze. He wasn’t sure if he was terrified or about to come.“Um. Is this where I make the obligatory beastiality joke? ‘Cuz I think I covered just about all of them with Sco--- oh damn it.” Stiles winced. “Another billion unsexy points. Gross.”  
  
Derek actually snorted again, leaning back and rolling so that he could take off his jeans. “I’ll be right back. Take these off.”  
  
Stiles undressed in nanoseconds, kicking his jeans off so hard that they flipped across the room to land on a rickety-looking chair by the window. Derek came back to bed with the familiar yellow lube and a string of condoms.  
  
Stiles frowned. “I thought werewolves don’t get diseases.”  
  
“They don’t.”  
  
“Well, it’s not like I’m gonna get pregnant.” Stiles couldn’t identify the expression that flickered over Derek’s face. “I kinda wanted... um. To feel you. Inside, Derek. Feel you coming inside of me. That’d be hot, right?”  
  
Derek carefully relaxed his death grip on the now-mangled condoms. Stiles bit his lip, suddenly unsure. “Is that okay? Derek?”  
  
“You’re going to kill me.”  
  
Stiles watched as Derek carefully set the tub-o-lube down next to Stiles’ hip. Before, he’d kind of laughed at the ridiculously huge amount... but now that he’d seen the size of Derek’s dick, he was kind of really grateful.  
  
“If you turn over it’s a little easier.”  
  
Stiles was all for easy. Besides, he was pretty sure if he had to look up at Derek’s face while he stretched him open he’d come even faster than he’d already done, and really a guy had his pride. Or something. Mostly he didn’t want to look stupid, so whatever that was. “Okay.” Stiles turned over, trying not to feel awkward as Derek arranged him with his legs spread open, his dick pressed up between his stomach and the sheets.  
  
“You’ll tell me if I do something that you don’t like.” Again, it wasn’t a request. Stiles nodded anyway, tensing when he felt Derek kiss between his shoulder blades. “Stiles. You’re sure about this? There’s other things...”  
  
“No! I’m sure.” He thought. “Just ...” Stiles trailed off. ‘Be careful’ sounded too girly.  
  
“Just what?” Derek kissed over the bumps of Stiles’ spine, slowly moving down. His kisses were soft with the swipe of tongue or the teasing scrape of teeth. Stiles had already forgotten what he was saying.  
  
“I don’t know. Oh god. That feels...” Stiles trailed off as Derek moved slowly down his body, pushing his legs further apart. He felt a kiss on the back of his balls which caused his lungs to completely freeze. Derek breathed over him, his breath hot and humid.  
  
Stiles’ eyes widened as he felt Derek’s fingers holding him open, felt the bristles on his chin brush lightly over the skin there. “Oh, shit! Derek...”  
  
“Hmm?” Stiles could hear Derek inhaling deeply, his mouth just a breath away from his skin. Then the slide of his tongue against him, licking at his skin, sucking kisses randomly wherever he could find.  
  
Stiles shouted at the sensation, pressing his face into his pillow as Derek started actually flicking the tip of his tongue at the his hole, quick, fluttery little licks that made Stiles press back into Derek’s mouth, desperate for more. Derek pulled away with a groan, pressing his forehead against Stiles’ ass, biting at the fleshy part above Stiles’ thigh. Stiles felt his own precome leaking out of his cock and moaned, trying to suck in enough breath to breathe.  
  
It hurt just a little too much and Stiles yipped again, shivers breaking out all over his body. He almost couldn’t hear himself over his own panting breaths. Stiles jumped a little when he felt one wet finger circling the slickness left by Derek’s tongue. A little of the lube dripped down over his balls, and Stiles couldn’t help the way his hips rocked into the mattress. Derek rubbed his stubble over the back of Stiles’ thigh as he slipped his finger inside, waiting as Stiles tensed. Derek moved it around, wiggling as he made room for his finger. Stiles moaned even louder when Derek pushed in two fingers, using so much lube that he felt sloppy with it. When Derek started to fuck him with the two fingers, Stiles threw his head back, sucking in breath only so that he could moan louder, beyond caring if he sounded ridiculous or not.  
  
“Look at you, up on your knees. I knew you’d like this. Fuck, Stiles, that's it. Can you take three for me?”  
  
“Y-Yeah.. oh.. _nnnngh_ I can. I can I want it come on, come _on_.”  
  
Derek’s growl so close to his ass made Stiles’ dick spurt some more precome. He was so wet already that his dick felt slick when it slid against the mattress. Three fingers hurt a little, and Stiles hissed, trying not to tense up. Derek pet him, stroked his thigh and hip, but kept pushing his fingers in, until Stiles could feel Derek’s knuckles bump against the rim.  
  
Derek stopped for a second to let Stiles adjust. He didn’t scissor his fingers, but instead curled them, and Stiles _lurched_ forward in surprise as every nerve he had lit up at once.  
  
“Oh, _fuck!_ ”  
  
Stiles could feel Derek grinning against his skin. He did it again, and Stiles shuddered as he came all over himself, only realizing that he was rocking back onto Derek’s fingers at the end, screwing himself down onto Derek’s hand. Stiles collapsed against the bed and Derek pulled his fingers out with a wet sound, pushing Stiles over to his side. Derek bent over him, licking at the come on his stomach, over his wet, softening cock. Stiles made a strangled sound as Derek sucked at his half-hard dick, so sensitive that it almost hurt. Stiles reared up and pulled Derek’s hair, urging him up so that Stiles could kiss him. “Now that’s not fair. I’ve come twice and you haven’t even once. I might be new at this, but even I know that’s kind of uncool.”  
  
Derek didn’t say anything, just turned him back over. Stiles felt the heat of Derek’s longer body against his back, braced himself on his arms as Derek’s cock bumped against his ass, then the head was stretching him open and Stiles froze again, biting his lip on another moan. Shivers broke out all over his body as Derek pushed the head of his cock into Stiles’ ass. Derek tried to give him another inch, but the stretch was too much and Stiles winced, making a small pain sound. Derek jerked out of him with a muffled “ _fuck_ ” and Stiles had to grab his hip to keep him from pulling completely away. Derek walked back on his knees, and Stiles felt Derek’s wet fingers again, sliding in and slowly out of him.  
  
Stiles’ cock, which had softened from its half-hard state after Derek had greedily sucked off his come, begain to get back on board with everything that was happening, as it started to feel good, then great, then completely fucking amazing again.  
  
Derek turned, so that his back was against the headboard, picking Stiles up and holding him so that he could kiss him again, having no problem keeping his fingers still buried inside of Stiles, middle finger flicking over the little bump that kept Stiles seeing stars. Stiles helped, moving so that he was straddling Derek’s cock, Stiles reached for the lube, stroking it over Derek and watching as the other man shivered and jerked under him.  
  
Which was only fair, really.  
  
It took a little bit of balancing, and a lot of stretching his legs more than he ever thought he’d have to stretch them before, but then Derek was holding Stiles open, his fingers almost bruising as he held Stiles’ cheeks apart. Stiles gripped the base of Derek’s cock, slowly moving himself down onto it.  
  
Derek had his mouth open, and his eyes closed. Stiles was kind of afraid it was because his eyes had gone red, but he didn’t really give a fuck at the moment. Although he probably should, considering.  
  
A little push, a nudge, and they both groaned as Derek slid inside, slowly making room for himself. Stiles could still feel the stretch, but the angle was so much better. He could rock his hips like this, and each time he did, he slipped a little more down onto Derek’s thick cock until he was clutching Derek’s shoulders, fully seated with Derek’s trembling fingers sliding over his stretched hole, feeling where they were connected together, causing Stiles to moan and jerk in place.  
  
“This okay?”  
  
Stiles’ mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?” He tightened, and felt Derek’s fingers tighten on his ass. Stiles leaned back and his eyes fluttered as the drag of Derek’s cock hit a new angle. “Oh, god. That’s... there. Can you. I...” He trailed off, not able to find the words to tell Derek what he wanted. Stiles rolled his hips, experimenting with how quickly he could go, how much it would make Derek’s cock jerk inside of him.  
  
When Derek’s slick hand closed around Stiles’ dick he bounced a little, then Derek’s hand was showing him the rhythm, giving Stiles both something to fuck up into and fuck back onto. Stiles came again almost immediately, and this time Derek growled, low and dark in the back of his throat. His eyes opened to lock onto Stiles’ drowsy ones as he flipped them, holding Stiles with his back against the sweaty sheets. From this position Derek could fuck into him as he wanted, _needed_ to do. Stiles didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, but grabbing at Derek’s ass seemed like a good plan. Derek was still moaning as his hips rocked forward into Stiles and he arched, snapped his head back with a grimace.Stiles moaned at the feeling of the wet heat of Derek’s come as it painted his insides, hot and fuck that was Derek. _Coming inside of his ass._  
  
Derek had frozen in place, trembling a little. Stiles looked up at him, trying to memorize how he looked, which was probably stupid but it wasn’t like he was going to be posting that as his facebook status or anything, so whatever.  
  
Derek shifted, landing on the mattress with a muffled ‘ooomph,’ disentangling them from each other. Stiles winced as he felt Derek’s come leaking out of him.  
  
“Euurgh. That’s definitely a new feeling.”  
  
Stiles didn’t realize that he’d said it out loud until Derek started laughing, yanking Stiles up so that he was sprawled over Derek’s sweaty chest.  
  
“So, that’s sex.”  
  
Derek raised an eyebrow, frowning. “Is that a complaint?”  
  
“Um, are you insane? Is this the part where I say ‘It was good for me’? Because I will. Again, the basis of comparison isn’t exactly full of people lining up out the door, but--”  
  
Derek smacked his ass and Stiles jumped with a not-so muffled squeak. “No. This is the part where we go to sleep and wake up for round two. Later. Much later.”  
  
Oh. Well, okay. He was so on board with that. And it was kind of nice, really, listening to Derek’s heartbeat under his chest. The ceiling fan cooled the sweat on their bodies and this was... nice. Derek Hale was a cuddler. Who knew?  
  
“Hey, Derek?”  
  
Derek grunted.  
  
“So... what’s knotting? Is that a real thing? Because my dad like, already saw my browser history and I was afraid he’d think I was completely fucked up if I--”  
  
“Oh my _god._ ” Derek smacked his ass again. Which, hello. Not exactly a deterrent. “Can you be quiet?”  
  
“No I can not. I’m just saying that it sounds like it would be-- _mmmph_!”  
  
Derek kissed him, lazily, holding Stiles’ face in his huge hands. He pulled away and stared down at Stiles’ goofy grin with a suspicious look. “We can talk about that later. Sleep now.”  
  
Which was an excellent idea. No, really. It totally was.  
  
Stiles made himself comfortable, pulling up the sheet over them both, smooshing his cheek into Derek’s chest again, trying to slow his breathing.  
  
For about ten minutes.  
  
“Hey Derek?”  
  
“ _Grrrrr_.”  
  
“Um. Nevermind.”  
  
Stiles heard a few heartbeats go by. Then a sigh that sounded like its owner had the weight of the world on his shoulders.  
  
“ _What_ , Stiles?”  
  
“I just.” He paused, suddenly a little nervous. “It’s just that wolves mate for life right? I just wanted you to know that I would be... okay with that. Maybe slightly more than okay. If that was true.”  
  
There was another beat of silence. Stiles felt Derek’s hand cupping the back of his head, sliding slowly down his spine and back up, stroking his back. “Yeah. It’s true.”  
  
Stiles bit his lip. Waited a few more seconds. “Jeez. Some of us are trying to sleep here. Good _night_!”  
  
Another smack on his ass was Stiles’ only answer.  
  
  
  
  
The End!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for putting up with my first attempt in this fandom! I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to let me know what you thought, either here or on tumblr. ♥♥
> 
> Also, thank you again to jlm121 and diva0789 for their help. If anything else is still incoherent, that's all my fault.
> 
> (sorry- one last note. It was pointed out to me that I set part of the story in a completely incorrect reflection of the state! So sorry about that! I had only been there once as a small kid and completely misremembered where I was I guess! )

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(PODFIC) Hey There Little Red by 1lostone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925886) by [AvidReaderLady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidReaderLady/pseuds/AvidReaderLady)




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